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1887 

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BRAG;  THE  POOR  HOUSE  GIRL 
A   DRAMA 


TO    WHICH    IS    ADDED    

DESCRIPTION  OF  THE  COSTUMES-CAST  OF  THE  CHARACTERS- 
ENTRANCES  AND  EXITS-RELATIVE  POSITIONS  OF  THE 
PERFORMERS   ON  THE   STAGE,   AND  THE  WHOLE 
OF  THE  STAGE  BUSINESS. 


FRINTED  FEOM  THE  AUTHOR'S  OIUGlSALMAXUSCKIFT. 


year  1887,  by 


ding  to  act  of  Co>iff 

A.   D.  AMES, 
m  the  offire  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress  at  Washi 


CLYI'F,    OH/O: 

A.  D.  AMES,  PUBLISHER. 


BRAG;   THE  POOR  HOUSE  GIRL. 


A  CTERS  RE  PR  E  SENT  ED. 

Brae ;  A  poor  house  girl  adopted  by  Clarissa. 

Bob  Wilder A  summer  boarder  of  Avoca  farm. 

Frank  Karl /„  search  of  Brae. 

John  Perkins Overseer  <>f  Karl  and  Southen's  business 

Ransom  Sage... ..4  lawyer  in  search  of  an  heir   to  Southen'v  property. 

Clarissa  A  very.;  r A  country  milliner. 

Dorcas  Jones.  >^. A  country  dressmaker. 

Anna  Blake. .  .y In  Perkin's  power. 


COSTUMES. 

BRAC.  Act  1 — Plain  pingham  frock.  Act  2 — Dress  of  the  same. 
ActS — Dress  of  fashionable  young  lady. 

BOB.    Act  1 — Bicycle  suit.    Act  2  and  3 — Street  dress. 

FRANK  KARL.    Act  1  and  2 — Street  dress.     Act  3 — Full  dress. 

JOHN  PERKINS— (A  heavy  cloak  for  the  murder)     Full  dross. 

RANSOM  SAGE.    Street  dress. 

CLARISSA  AVERT.    Old  fashioned  silk  dress. 

DORCAS  JONES.  Act  1 — Comm'on  woolen  dress.  Act,  2 — Old  style 
Bilk. 

ANNA  BLAKE.    Act  #— Street  costume.    Act  3— Stylish  silk  suit. 


— x 

TIME  OF  PERFORMANCE— TWO  HOURS. 


STA  GE  DIRECTIONS. 

».,  means  Right;  L.,  Left;  R.  H.,  Right  Hand;  L.  H.,  Left  Hand;  o.,  Centre;  s.  w,; 
[2d  E.,]  Second  Entrance;  u.  E.,  Upper  Entrance;  M.  D.,  Middle  Door;  F.,  the  Flal 
D.  K.,  Door  in  Flat;  E.  c.,  Right  of  Centre;  L.C.,  Left  of  Centre. 

ft.  R.  0.  0.  L.  0.  U 

**•    The  reader  is  supposed  to  be  upon  the  stage  facing  the  audience. 


Any  one  desiring  io  produce  this  play   is  at  liberty  to 
do  so  free  of  charge. 


$7113.  l%$7, MAIN 


BRAC;  THE  POOR  HOUSE  GIRL 


ACT   I. 

SCENE— Set  house  L.  1  B.,  with  front  removed  from  the  helghth  of  the 
bottom  of  the  window,  so  that  what  transpires  within  the  room*  can 
le  seenfr«m  the  audience.  Eoom  furnished  to  represent  a  parlor 
millinery  establishment.  In  front  and  to  the  R.  side  of  the  set 
house  is  a  vacant  space,  representing  a  garden  which  is  surrounded 
by  a  neat  garden  fence;  gate  c.  The  front  of  the  stage,  from  about 
the  second  wings,  is  vacant.  Above  the  vacant  side  of  the  room  is 
a  sign  "Miss  CLARISSA  AVERV,  Fashionable  Milliner.  '  At  the 
rise  of  the  curtain  Miss  AVERT  is  discovered  seated  at  C.  of  the 
room  trimming  a  green  plush  hat. 

Clarissa,  (after  pinning  on  a  couple  of  sun  flowers)  What  next,  I 
wonder !  to  think  of  these  homely  flowers  beiu'  the  rage !  I  recollect, 
ma  wouldn't  have  one  of  'em  growin'  in  the  front  yard,  even  'rnqng 
the  genteel  flowers,  hut  had  'em  out  by  the  woodshed,  'cos  they 
were  called  good  for  fever  and  ager.  Now  they  tell  me  they  use  'em 
at  fust-class  parties,  and  decorate  grand  rooms  with  'em.  Well,  it's 
live  and  learn  1  (holds  hat  at  arm's  length)  There  now,  Miss  Pris- 
cilla  Primrose,  your  bunnet's  done!  and  I  must  say  that  it  does  my 
arteestic'bility  great  credit  in  showin'  so  much  style,  (looks  at  t lie 
clock)  Lor  sakes  I  It's  nine  o'clock  and  I  haven't  made  my  toilet 
yet.  What  if  any  one  had  called  !  I  must  go  at  once. 

(exit  at  side  door 

Enter    BRAG    into  garden  in  front  of  the  house  from  the   back  part  of 
the  stage;    comes  with  a  run  and  jump. 

Brae.  Well,  here  I  is,  right  side  up  again  !  I  just  failed  down 
and  hurt  myself  like  fun.  How  good  it  is  of  Miss  Avery  to  give  me 
a  home.  I 'wish  she'd  give  me  more  to  e;it;  let  me  see.  Yesterday 
I  had  some  cold  potatoes  for  breakfast,  and  for  dinner  I  had— what 
did  I  have?  Oh,  I  know !  I  had  nothin',  for  she  made  me  go  with 
out,  to  punish  me  for  shearin'  hei  pet  cat.  Hal  ha!  ha!  he  did 
look  awful  comic  though,  and  she  called  me  an  imp !  I  don't  know 
what  that  is,  but  she  says  that  they  can't  go  to  heaven.  Well,  I 
can't  help  it.  I'm  just  as  I  grovved;  but  I  think  she  '11  have  a  fight 

~*     '       •     T  wish  I  was  rich  like 


to  get  through  the  golden  gate.     Oh,  dear!     I  wish  I  was  rich  li 
Bob;  then  all  the  girls  in  "town  wouldn't    make    faces  and  call   n 
names.     I  don't  care,  I  don't  like  to  be  made  fun  of  just  bec'us— I'l 

n  the  sea 

664 


4  BE  A  C  ;  THE  POOR  HO  USE  GIRL. 

Enter  BOB  from  L.  1  E. 

Bob.  (discovers  BRAG  crying)  Why,  hallo,  Brae  I  What's  the 
trouble?  What  are  you  crying  for?  Come,  don't  mind  it;  now 
you  just  see  what  I've 'brought  you — (takes  bananas  from  his  pocket) 
there  1 

Brae.    What's  them? 

Bob.    Those  are  bananas. 

Brae.     Bandanas  ? 

Bob.  No,  not  bandanas  but  bananas,  and  now  I  want  you  to  eat 
everyone  of  them. 

Brae.    What  I  all— of— them? 

Bob.    Yes,  all  of  them. 

Brae.     At  once? 

Bob.    No,  not  at  once,  but  one  at  a  time. 

Brae.    My  stars  I  what  a  picnic! 

Bob.  Now  go  ahead  and  eat,  and  I'll  watch  and  see  that  dear 
Clarissa  don't  see  you. 

Retires  a  little;     BRAG  is  very   slow   about  eating  at  first,  as    though 
afraid,  but  finally  eats  ravenously. 

Bob.  Heavens  I  she  must  be  awful  hungry  I  I  thought  she  looked 
as  though  she  was  starved.  Just  see  her  eat,  will  you? 

Brac^    Oh,  ain't  these  just  'licious  I 

Bob.    Delicious,  you  mean,  Brae. 

Brae.  Yes,  I  s'pose  I  do.  (aside)  I  can  never  get  the  big  words 
In  right,  somehow. 

Bob.  (sitting  by  her  side)  I  say,  Brae,  I've  a  good  mind  to  give 
your  mistress  a  good  sound  bit  of  advice. 

Brae.  You'd  better  not,  unless  you're  gohr"  to  'vise  her  how  to 
regain  the  bloom  of  youth,  and  then  she  ain't  the  worst  guard. 

Bob.     What  makes  you  persist  in  calling  her  guard? 

Brae.  Bec'us  she's  been  lookiu'  out  of  the  door  every  mornin' 
and  under  the  bed  every  night  for  fifty  years,  to  find  a  husband; 
and  if  she  ain't  on  guard— then  all  right! 

Bob.  That's  rather  strong  proof,  I  must  say.  But,  Brae,  do  you 
know  the  reason  she  never  puts  her  purse  in  her  pocket? 

Brae.  No,  unless  she's  like  me  and  ain't  got  any  pocket.  But 
that  ain't  it,  for  1  sce'd  her  take  a  pep'mint  out  the  other  day,  and 
she  didn't  give  me  one  ne'ther.  Tell  me  what's  the  reason,  quick! 

Bob.     Because  it  is  so  light  she  is  afraid  that  it  will  jump  out. 

Brae.  Why,  Bob,  1  didn't  think  you  would  make  fun  like  that. 
But  say  I  Miss  A  very  says  that  she  never  had  a  man  kiss  her. 

Bob.     I  don't  believe  tliat. 

Brae.     But  I  do! 

Bob.  Why,  Brae!  what  makes  you  believe  that  a  lady  could  have 
grown  up  and  not  have  been  kissed  ? 

Brae.    'Cause  the  men  are  all  afraid  of  powder. 

Bob.     Well,  Brae,  I'm  not!  (kisses  her 

Brae.  Oh!  he — he  kissed  me!  (aside)  and  I  ain't  washed  my 
face  this  week. 

Bob.  Well,  Brae,  there's  going  to  be  a  party  down  to  Avoca 
farm,  and  the  gentlemen  are  all  obliged  to  take  ladies,  so  I  wish  to 
have  you  <ro  with  me. 

Brae.     Oh,  Bob,  I'd  like   to  go  so  much  I     But— I— can't,  be— be- 


BfiAC;  THE  POOR  HOUSE  GIRL.  6 

c'use  I'm  only  Miss  Avery's  slavey  and  ain't  wanted  where  all  them 
tine  folks  are. 

Bob.  You  can  go  with  me  if  you  will,  and  I  should  like  to  see 
any  one  say  anything  again-t  you  when  I  am  around. 

Brae,  i  thank  you  Bob,  for  your  invite,  but— I  can't  go,  no  how, 
and  I — I  must  go  in  now,  so  good  bye. 

Bob.  Forgive  me,  Brae,  I  'did  not  mean  to  make  you  unhappy! 
Good  bye!  I'll  go  and  have  a  good  long  ride  now;  for,  after  you, 
my  bicycle  is  my  best  friend. 

Brae.  Bob!  don't  you  look  so  serious  or  I'm  afraid  you'll  take  a 
header  from  your  bicycle. 

Bob.     I'll  be  careful— good  bye!  (exit  BOB,  L.  1  E. 

Brae.  Oh,  why  can't  I  dress  and  go  like  other  girls?  Here  I 
have  to  stay  day  and  night  and  work  for  my  food  and  she  manages 
to  make  my  diesses  out  of  her  old  ones.  I  only  -wish  that  she'd 
make  me  more  than  one  at  a  time,  so's  I  could  kinder  dress  up  and 
look  a  little  bit  prime  when  Bob  comes.  I  do  try  and  not  be  stupid 
when  he's  here,  but  I  get  so  awful  hungry  that  I  don't  care  for 
nothin'  or  nobody.  Lor,  sakes!  want  them  bandanas  immense 
though?  Now  Tin  goin'  to  take  my  books  away  before  old  guarcly 
gets  her  eye  on  me. 

(takes  a  book  from  under  the  seat  and  runs  off  at  the  right 

Enter  CLARISSA  into  room  from  side  door,  dressed  for  the  day. 

C.  There  now,  I'm  ready!  I  owe  it  to  my  profession  to  make  a 
good  appearance,  else  how  could  the  public  trust  my  taste  in  bun- 
nets,  i  got  the  latest  style  for  doing  up  my  hair  from  the  best  place 
in  town,  and  had  my  dress  bought  in  New  York,  so  as  to  give  it 
tone.  And  now  I'll  just  look  out— I  always  do  every  morning— so's 
to  see  if  he's  comin'.  (looks  out  of  the  door,  slims  it  to,  and  comes 
back)  Oh,  dear!  I  didn't  see  him  anywhere!  but  he' must  come 
sometime  I  know,  for  I  have  a  sort  of  presentiment.  Now  if  I  was 
to  pick  out  a  wedding  outfit  I'd  have  a  pale  pink  brocade  silk  dress, 
with  light  green  satin  piping  and  black  pass-a-commentry  fringe, 
and  for  a  hat  I'd  have  the  faintest,  lovliest,  creamiest  plush 

BRAG  bursts  into  the  house  from  the  door,  and  CLARISSA  starts  vio 
lently. 

Brae.  Oh,  mum,  the  boys  have  been  and  went  and  gone  and  done 
it  this  time,  they  have! 

C.  Lor  sakes,  Brae!  what  do  vou  come  a  bustm'  into  a  room  like 
a  turnado  in  that  'ere  way  for?  Don't  you  know  what  sensibilities 
and  high  strung  nervous  organizations  is? 

Brae,     (anxiously)     No,  mum  !     Is  it  good  to  eat,  mum? 

C.  (vexed)  Good  to  eat!  gracious  goodness,  girl!  you'll  drive 
f.u;  mad  with  your  stupidity  1  What  has  them  imps  of  Satan  been 
— »  to  now? 


'Brae.     They've  been  alter! n'  the  sign,  mum. 
C.     Alterins:  my  sign  !     Well,  I  never!     That 


,  my  sign  l     well,  i  never:     i  nai    comes  of   bein*    a 

lone"  woman  with  no  protector.  Oh,  why  did  I  scorn  all  the  suitors 
for  my  hand?  I  might  have  had  my  choice  of  them,  (brings  in  tht 
sitin,  holds  it  up  and  reads  it,  and  sets  it  beside  the  other;  it  read*: 
"Miss  CLARISSA  A-very  cuss  of  a  Fashionable  Milliner."  Stands  off 
and  looks  at  the  sign)  For  the  landsake!  my  best  sign  distrovcdi 


6  BRAG;  THE  POOH  HOUSE  QIEL. 

and  I'll  be  obliged  to  use  the  old  one.  Brae,  come  here  !  Do  you 
know  done  this  ?  No,  of  course  you  don't  !  How  can  I  expect  you 
to  know  anything?  still  it's  a  good  time  to  learn  you  one  thiii^-, 
and  that  is,  that  the  imp  wno  did  this  job  will  git  his  deserts  bye 
and  bye,  for  the  Good  Book  says  that  "the  wages  of  sin  is  death." 

Brae.    When  are  you  goin'  to  draw  your  salary,  mum? 

C.  What's  that?  You  ungrateful  wretch  !  Didn't  I  give  you 
some  cold  griddles  for  your  breakfast  this  morning?  but  it's  no  use; 
the  more  I  do  for  you,  the  sasier  you  git.  Where  have  you  hid 
yourself  to  all  the  morning? 

Brae.  Me  hide  myself—  ha!  ha!  ha!  I  was  out  in  the  garden. 
and  oh,  almost  everywhere. 

C.  I  'spected  as  much.  You'll  be  a  fust  class  tramp  if  you  don't 
stop.  Can't  I  teach  you  that  k<a  rollin'  stone  gathers  no  moss  !" 

Brae.    What's  that?     What  do  you  mean  by  a  rollin'  stone? 

G.  Why,  any  pirson  what's  always  movin'  about  from  one  place 
to  another  and  from  one  business  to  another. 

Brae.  Then  a  fellow  what  stays  still  all  the  time  the  moss  grows 
to. 

G.    That's  the  idea!    That's  what  I've  been  teaching  you. 

Brae.  You  must  be  all  covered  over,  for  people  say  that  you  have 
been  here  for  fifty  years,  mum. 

C.  Well,  I  d'clarl  (sharply)  you  just  march  yourself  about 
your  work  and  don't  you  ever  come  to  me  with  your  impertinence 
again,  you  sasy  brat,  or  I'll  send  you  back  to  the  poor  farm. 

Brae,     (aside)     Oh,  ain't  she  just  jolly  mad,  though  ? 

Bursts  out  laughing  and  rushes  out  of  the  room  at   the  door,  leaving  it 

open. 

C.    I  don't  see  for  the  life  of  me  what  makes  that  child  so  stupid! 
'  comes  in  and  closes  the  door  behind  her. 


Brae.  Lor,  mum  !  There's  a  real  man  at  the  door,  and  he  wants 
to  see  you  all  —  a  —  lone. 

C.  Good  gracious,  he's  come  at  last  !  Now  see  that  you  are  look 
ing  your  best,  Clarissa.  (primps  before  the  glass 

Brae,     (suddenly  j    There's  a  hole  in  your  dress,  mum. 

G.    Good  heavens!  where?     Where  is  it? 

Brae,     (getting  out  of  reach)     At  the  bottom,  mum. 

G.    Oh,  you  imp  !     I  almost  fainted  with  shame. 

Brae.     Say,  shall  I  ask  him  in,  mum  ? 

C.    Well,  I  never!     Of  course  you'll  ask  him  in,  stupid  ! 

Brae,     (yells)     Come  in,  "stupid  !" 

G.  Gracious  heavens,  girl,  you  are  the  biggest  natural  born  fool  I 
ever  saw. 

Exit  BEAC  and  returns  with  MR.  SAGE. 
Brae.    Here  he  is,  mum.    Mr.  Stupid. 
BRAC  gets  behind  SAGE  and  goes  through  motions  of   the  introduction. 

Sage.     Allow  me  !  (presents  his  card 

C.  (aside)  Mr.  Sa^e  !  Well,  that's  not  a  bad  name,  though  it 
does  remind  one  of  catnip  and  peneroyal. 


BE  AC;  TEE  POOR  HOUSE  Q1EL.  1 

Brae,    (suddenly")    Fire  I    Fire!! 
C.    (alarmed)    Good  gracious,  child!  where? 
Boat     Where?  where?      (advances  and  puts  hand  on  BRAC  s  arm 
Brae     No  where,  sir.    I  only  see'd  her  commence  to  spark,  and 
thought  I'd  give  the  alarm  before  she  blazed.          (SAGE  torn*  aside 
C.    (angrily)    Oh,  you child  I  Go  out  of  the  house  this  minute. 

BRAC  starts  for  the  door  but  stops,  jumps  up  and  screams. 

Brae.    Lor,    mum!  there's  a  mouse   under  your  dress;  he   just 
runned  there. 
CLARISSA  screams,  and  jumping  up  into  a  chair,  holds  her  dress  up   t9 

the  top  of  her  boots.     SAGE  advances  hastily,  looking  for  the  mouse. 

BRAC  strikes  an  attitude  and  says: 

Brae.    There,  she  blazes! 

Sage,  (laughs)  Well,  you  are  enough  to  make  anything  blaze. 
(assists  C.  to  the  floor)  Pray  calm  yourself,  my  dear  madam,  there 
s  nothing  to  be  feared  from  such  a  small  animal,  and  he  has  gone 
lono-  ere  this.  (helps  himself  to  chair  near  rear  door 

C.  Why  don't  you  leave  the  room  as  I  told  you,  and  don't  you 
dare  to  come  in  here  again  unless  you  are  called;  do  you  hear? 
(noes  to  BRAC;  aside)  You  shall  go  to  bed  without  your  supper  for 
p'layin'  that  joke  on  me.  You  didn't  see  a  mouse  at  all,  you  wretch  I 

BRAC  has  edged  up  behind  MR.  SAGE'S  chair,  and  pulling   his  hair  and 
answering  CLARISSA  at  same  time. 

Brae.    Small  loss,  mum.  (rushes  out  of  door  at  back 

Sage,  (jumps  up  and  exclaims)  Thunder  I  I  don't  know  but  it 
was  a  small  loss,  but  a  few  of  them  would  leave  me  bald-headed. 

(rubbing  his  head 

C.  (advancing  and  speaking  softly)  Oh,  what  is  the  trouble,  sir  ? 
Does  your  head  ache? 

Sage.    No,  it's  nothing,  only cr She's  a  remarkably   lively 

little  girl,  though. 

<7.  Yes,  she's  altogether  too  lively.  I  just  took  her  out  of  the 
poor  farm,  and  am  trying  to  make  a  pleasant  home  for  her.  (aside) 
I  think  that  she  lives  too  high. 

Sage.  Yes,  I  think  that  she  is  a^little  lively ;  but  let  me  return  to 
business.  I— I'm  from  India.  SAGE  takes  chair  up  to  table 

C.    Sho — !  (drawing  a  chair  up  to  tablt  also 

Sage.    A  lawyer;  this  is  my  card. 

(pointing  at  the  one  he  had  given  her 

C.    I  want  to  know? 

Sage.  Yes,  of  course  you  want  to  know;  well,  I'm  hunting  for 
heirs. 

C.    Du  tell  ? 

Sage.     Or  heiresses! 

C.     For  the  land's  sake ! 

Sage.  Did  you  ever  hear  of  a  Luke  Southen,  who  was  rather  & 
wild  youth  and  went  off  to  India? 

C.  Lor',  yes — he  was  my  second  cousin  on  my  mother's  side; 
her  name  was  Mandrake  before — (SAGE  interrupts  her  and  continues 

Sage.  Yes — yes,  I  know  all  about  that.  But  Luke,  poor  fellow, 
has  left  this  world  forever. 


t  BE  AC;  THE  POOS  HOUSE  QIBL. 

C.     Goodness  me !    You  don't  mean  it ! 

Sage.  He  turned  over  a  new  leaf  when  he  got  to  India,  and  sayed 
money. 

C.    lie  saved  money!     Du  tell? 

Sage.  Yes,  I  will,  if  you  will  give  me  time.  Well,  he  left  about 
half  a  million  to  his  next  of  kin.  Now  we  found  no  will,  and  in 
looking  up  his  family,  we  find  that  they  have  all  passed  away  with 
the  exceptions  of  a  cousin  by  the  same  name  you  bear,  though  she  is 
so  far  distant  that  it  will  be  quite  a  task  to  get  the  property  but  it 
will  in  time  naturally  come  to  that  person.  Now  if  you  are  the  same 
Clarissa,  and  it  can  be  proved  that  you  are  the  last  and  nearest 

C.  (hurriedly)  I  am— I  am !  Ilia  folks  are  all  gone  long  ago. 
God  bless  them  !  and  I  am  the 

Sage.  Exactly.  I've  been  looking  for  you  for  a  long  time,  (rises) 
Allow  me  to  congratulate  you  on  being (offers  his  hand 

C.     (rises  and  takes  his  hand  and  holds  it)    As  the  poet  says — 

"The  last  ungathered  rose 
Upon  the  parent  stem." 

Sage,  (puts  his  other  hand  on  her  arm — they  still  holding  Jiands) 
Ah! 'certainly  that  is  your  fault,  madam,  or  else  there  must  be  a 
singular  insensibility  in  this  community.  You  are  out  of  your 
sphere  here,  madam.  In  the  great  metropolis,  amid  congenial 
minds,  you  should  shine — 

C.  (dropping  his  hand  and  walking  back  and  jorth  with  clasped 
hands)  I  know  it,  sir.  I  have  always  felt  that  I  was  born  for  bet 
ter  things,  (stops  suddenly  in  front,  O/SAGE)  Bat  how  soon  can  I 
draw  ? 

Sage.     Draw  ? 

C.    Yes,  draw  checks  to  be  sure ! 

Sage.  Oh — ahem!  Well,  you  know  the  law  is  very  slow  in  its' 
processes;  you  understand — delays,  lots  of  red  tape,  and  all  that 
sort  of  thing.  (resumes  his  seat 

C.     And  what  sort  of  thing? 

Sage.    Why,  delays  and  red  tape,  of  course. 

C.  Shol  (sits  opposite  SAGE)  Ked  tape!  well,  that's  curious! 
But  I  don't  want  any  tape.  I  can  buy  that  any  time;  all  I  want  is 
to  draw  checks. 

Sage.  But  don't  you  understand  ?  that  instead  of  getting  money 
at  once,  you'll  have  to  pay  out  something;  a  mere  trifle  compared 
to  the  prize.  You'll  have  lofee  a  lawyer  to  prove  that  you  are  your 
self — that  you  are  the  last  of  the  race. 

C.  Oh,  if  that's  all,  that's  easy  enough.  Any  one  about  here  can 
give  you  my  history.  I  suppose  you  will  undertake  the  case? 

Sage.  With  pleasure — I  may  say  since  I  have  seen  you,  with  in 
finite  pleasure,  madam. 

(7.  You  do  me  a  great  favor  in  the  interest  you  show  in  ray  be 
half;  and  now  you  must  remain  with  me — no  excuses  taken.  So 
you  can  make  yourself  at  home  here,  while  I  see  about  the  dinner. 
(goes  to  door  and  calls)  Brae!  Brae,  I  say  I 

BRAC  rushes  into  door. 

Brae.    Here  I  is ! 

C.    You  go  to  the  hotel  at  once  and  get  a  chicken — 

Brae.     A — what? 


B RA 0 t  TEE  POOR  HO  USE  GIRL.  9 

C.    A  chicken,  stupid! 

Rrac.    A  chicken  stupid  I  what's  that? 

C.  Oh,  you— you'll  drive  me  mad  I  You  go  and  do  as  I  tell  you ; 
get  the  chicken;  tell  Bunker  I  don't  want  any  old  fossil,  but  the 
finest  he's  got,  and  some  early  peas  and  salad — 

Brae.    Oh,  my  1  she's  crazy,  sure  1 

C.  Shut  up,  will  you  ?  and  then  order  some  ice  cream  from 
Crown's;  mind,  no  dippin'  into  it!  Now  be  a  good  girl  and  let  me 
know  the  moment  they  come,  and  you  shall  have  a  nice  dinner. 

(exit  C.  into  room  with  SAGE,  and  BRAC  out  oj  street  door 

Enter  KARL  in  front,  R.  1  E. 

Karl.  So  this  is  the  place  where  the  little  one  lives.  I  wonder 
how  she's  treated.  They  say  up  town  that  the  old  woman  ain't 
very  liberal.  Let  me  see;  it's  nine  months  since  poor  Luke  died; 
before  he  died  we  gave  John,  our  overseer,  the  place  and  sufficient 
capital  to  carry  it  on,  as  he  had  always  been  honest  as  far  as  we 
knew;  and  then  Luke  gave  me  his  will,  and  all  the  information 
that  he  possessed  about  his  child,  and  told  me  to  find  her  and  see 
that  she  had  her  rights,  which  I  promised  to  do.  After  we  buried 
him  I  started  at  once  as  I  didn't  like  the  place  after  my  partner's 
death.  And  John,  well  he  drew  his  money  and  came  by  the  same 
boat  as  I,  and  he  was  going  to  get  his  wife  and  mother,  he  said  ;  but 
I  guess  that  he  thought  he  would  settle  up  all  of  our  property  in 
his  own  way,  the  night  he  stabbed  me  in  the  back  and  threw  me 
overboard;  but  the  time  hadn't  come  for  old  Karl  to  pass  in  his 
chips.  So  here  I  am  and  I'm  bound  to  see  the  girl  righted.  Hallo  ! 
here  comes  some  one  down  the  road.  I'll  step  aside,  as  I  don't  wish 
to  be  seen  here  !  (steps  back  in  the  shadow  and  as  JOHN  passes  ex 
claims,  aside)  What!  Jack  Perkins  here!  This  means  mischief ! 
I  must  find  out  his  object  and  plans. 

JOHN  enters  L.  E.,  looking  all  about  the  place. 

John.  Ah !  here  I  am  !  (looks  in  window)  What  I  no  one  at  home, 
not  even  the  old  lady;  that's  rather  funny  !  I  thought  that  she  was 
always  in.  Well,  this  will  give  me  a  chance  to  think  and  to  lay  my 
plans.  I've  already  made  the  acquaintance  of  Brae,  though  she  don't 
seem  to  fancy  me.  Now  I  have  all  the  proofs  with  the  exception  of 
the  key  to  that  confounded  locket  and  his  will.  I  don't  see  how  I 
missed  finding  them  on  Karl  that  night.  I  thought  I  felt  in  every 
pocket  before  I  threw  him  over.  (KARL  moves  his  position)  ^  What's 
that!  Somehow  every  time  I  think  of  that  act  I  start  as  if  I  had 
been  shot.  1  must  be  getting  nervous,  for  every  time  I  see  a  stran 
ger,  a  kind  of  fear  takes  possession  of  me.  Supposing  Karl  had 
escaped?  .No,  that  was  impossible ;  and  he  carried  the  key  and 
will  down  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea  with  him.  I  was  sorry  to  harm 

he  h:ul  to   go. 
when  I 
will 

give  me  a  cool  million.  BuUo  settle  this  first;  now  I  must  try  and 
marry  this  Brae  and  so  get  control  of  her  money;  or  if  failing  to 
win  her,  she  must  disappear,  and  I  will  then  be  master  of  the  situa 
tion.  But  the  old  woman  is  a  relation  of  his,  and  if  some  one 
nearer  is  not  found,  she  will  get  the  prize.  I  hear  that  old  Sage  is 


10  BRA 0 :  THE  POOR  HOUSE  GIRL. 

over  here  trying  to  discover  the  heirs.  I  have  it  now!  If  I  fall 
with  the  girl,  srie's  seen  no  more;  and'then  I  will  make  Anna  come 
and  take  her  place,  (looking  o£  stage,  right]  Hallo  1  Here  comes 
Brae  now  1 

Enter  BRAG,  R.  1  E. 

John.    Why,  hallo,  my  little  beauty !  (advancing  to  BRAG 

Brae,     (surprised)     Good  morning,  Mr.  Perkins. 

John.    You  are  as  bright  as  a  dollar  and  as  pretty  as  a  picture. 

(chucks  her  under  the  chin 

Brae,     (angrily}     Say!  where'd  you  get  'em?  (steps  aside 

John.     Where  did  I  get  what,  Brae? 

Brae.     The  spoons! 

John.  Brae,  you're  a  prize  for  some  man  who  wants  a  nice, 
smart,  handsome  little  wife. 

Brae,     (angrily)     Do  you  know  what  you  are? 

John.    No.     What  am  I  ? 

Brae,     (spitefully)     You're  an  old  gas  bag. 

John.  Brae,  why  is  it  that  you  always  avoid  meeting  me,  and  are 
always  so  formal  to  one  who  takes  a  great  interest  in  you  ? 

Brae.  You  take  a  great  interest  in  me !  Why,  the  sight  of  you 
makes  me  ugly.  You  don't  have  any  interest  in  me — there  is  some 
other  reason  for  your  attentions. 

John,  (aside)  Confound  her  tongue!  I  shall  have  to  be  careful 
how  I  act  for  she  mistrusts  me  already,  (aloud)  I'm  very  sorry  that 
you  have  this  feeling  towards  me  and  if  it  is  possible  for  me  to  do 
anything  tha't  wrill  lead  you  to  change  your  opinion,  I  beg  of  you  to 
command  me,  for  I  have  a  greater  regard  for  you  than  any  other 
person  I  ever  saw,  and  you  know  that  I'm  always  lonesome  when 
I'm  away  from  you. 

Puts  his  arm  around  her  waist;  she  jumps  aside  and  stands  with  fin 
gers  spread  apart,  ready   to  scratch. 

Brae.  Oh!  what's  era wlin' on  you?  (JoiiN  takes  a  step  forward) 
Don't  you  come  near  me  or  I'll  scratch  your  eyes  out. 

John.  Come  now,  Brae,  don't  get  mad,  for  it  spoils  the  beauty  of 
your  face. 

Brae.     I  won't,  if  you  promise  not  to  do  that  again. 

John.     I'll  give  you  my  word  of  honor. 

Brae.     That's  not  bang  up  'scurity,  but  I'll  risk  it. 

John.     Brae,  you're  an  angel ! 

Brae,  (looks  up  into  his  face,  and  says  sarcastically)  Say,  you 
ought  to  be  in  a  sausage  factory. 

John.     Why,  what  makes  you  think  so,  pet? 

Brae.     'Cause  you  could  furnish  the  stuffin'  for  nothing. 

John.  Brae,  you  are  very  rude  to  one  who  wants  to  be  your  best 
friend. 

Brae,  (aside)  You  may  have  it  out  in  wanting  for  all  I  care. 
(aloud)  Mr.  Perkins,  if  I've  said  anything  .that  I  ought  to  be  sorry 
for — I'm — glad  of  it ! 

John.  I'll  stop  that  tongue  of  yours  when  you  are  once  in  my 
hands,  young  lady.  (cxiL  L.  1  E. 

Brae.  Now  I'll  get  the  things.  I  didn't  like  to  bring  them  while 
he  was  here.  Oh,  how  1  hate  that  man  I  '  (exit  R.  1  K. 


SB  A  0  ;  THE  POOH  HO  USE  GIKL.  11 

Karl,  (comes  forward}  -So  that's  your  game,  friend  John !  Well, 
we'll  see  who  wins  in  the  long  run.  And  so  my  little  girl  hates 
him,  and  that's  as  I  could  wish  it.  Ah,  here  she  comes;  I  want  to 
have  a  good  look  at  her,  so  I'll  stop  her.  What!  She  sees  me  and 
has  gone  across  the  garden.  Well,  I  shall  have  to  wait  until  some 
other  time.  (exit  L.  1  E. 

Enter  BRAG  tnts  the  house  through  the  street  door.     Takes  things  from 
basket  and  places  them  on  a  waiter ,  calling  them  by  name. 

Brae.  What  ever's  come  over  her?  I  never  see'd  such  a  spread, 
and  don't  it  make  my  mouth  water?  Lor',  wouldn't  it  be  prime  if 
she'd  give  me  a  lick  of  the  gravy.  Just  look  at  that  ice  cream  I 
Ain't  it  just  scrumptous,  though?  (yells}  Here  they  is,  mum  ! 

Enter  C.,  takes  waiter  and  looks  at  contents. 

C.  (turning  around)  Brae,  you  can  go  out  for  a  while  and  when 
we  get  through  I'll  call  you  and  give  you  your  dinner. 

(exit  through  door 

BRAG  goes  into   front  yard. 

Brae.  Oh,  dear !  I  wish  Bob  would  come  now.  Somehow  I 
always  kinder  forget  how  hungry  I  is,  and — and  we  do  have  such 
nice  times  together,  singin'  and  dancin',  (enter  KARL  and  stands 
listening)  and  talkin'  and  walkin'  and  all  that;  but  I  wonder  if  I'll 
ever  go  to  balls  and  parties  and  picnics,  the  same  as  he  does;  but  I 
don't  suppose  I  can,  for  he's  ever  so  much  more  shined  up  than  1 
am,  and  it  always  makes  me  feel  kinder  'shamed  of  myself.  Then 
he  don't  like  to  have  me  climb  trees,  nor  fence*;  and  oh,  I  scared 
him  so  t'other  day !  I  told  him  I  was  goin'  swimmin'  with  Tom  and 
Charlie  Mack.  Ha!  ha!  ha!  just  as  if  I  didn't  know  no  better. 
And  he  won't  let  me  ride  his  bicycle,  but  I  will  some  day  when  he 
don't  know  it!  No,  I  won't  neither,  for  if  he  should  find  it  out  he'd 
get  mad,  and — and  I — I  don't  want  him  to  get  mad  at  me,  for  he's 
the  bestest  friend  I've  got.  I  just  wish  I  had  lots  of  friends  like 
he's  got. 

Karl,  (coming  forward)  Won't  you  let  me  be  a  friend  of  yours, 
my  little  lady? 

Brae,  (aside)  My  !  he — he  called  me  a  lady  !  (aloud)  But  I — I 
don't  know  you. 

Karl.  Come,  give  me  your  hand  and  say  that  you'll  let  old  Karl 
be  your  friend,  won't  you? 

BRAG  goes  up  and  places  her  hand  in  his  with  a  slap. 
Brae.    Yes,  sir!  you  may  be  my  bestest  friend,  number  two. 
KARL  stoops  and  kisses  her  forehead. 

Karl.  Bless  you,  my  child  !  and  to  repay  you  for  your  trust,  I'll 
be  a  father  to  you. 

Brae.  You'll  be — my — father;  oh,  sir,  don't  make  fun  of  me,  for 
I — I  never  had  a  father,  and — and  I  didn't  think  by  your  face, 
(looking  up  into  his  face)  for  you  look  so  kind,  that  you  would 
make  fun  of  me. 


t»  BRAG  ;  THE  POOH  HOUSE  GIRL. 

Karl.  Forgive  me,  little  one;  I  did  not  intend  to  make  sport  of 
you.  And  as  for  your  father,  I  knew  him  well,  and  he  was  one  of 
the  truest  friends  that  I  ever  had. 

Brae.  Oh,  sir,  you  know  who  my  father  is,  and  will  you  take  me 
to  him?  But — 

Enter  JOHN,  R.  1  a. 

Karl.     But  what,  my  child? 

Brae.  What  did  you  mean  by  sayin'  that  you'd  be  my  father? 
(anxiously)  Are  you  him? 

John,  (aside]  "  A  Li,  there  she  is!  Who's  that  with  her?  I  must 
find  out  what  he  wants. 

Karl.  No,  child,  I'm  sorry  to  say  I'm  not.  But  I  knew  him 
well;  and  since  he's  gone  to  join  your  mother,  I'll  take  his  place,  if 
you'll  only  let  me? 

Brae.  Gone— my  father — and  mother — both  dead.  Oh,  sir!  have 
I  always  got  to  be  alone  and  live  here?  I  shall  die  if  I  do. 

(weeping 

John,  (aside)  So  you  know  about  this  affair  !  (shakes  his  fist  at 
KARL)  and  you  will  be  her  father,  will  you?  Well,  we'll  see  about 
that;  but  I  think  that  vou'll  be  of  about  as  much  service  to  her  as 
the  one  in  India,  af  er  to-night.  (exit  L.  1  B. 

Karl.  Come,  come,  little  one,  don't  cry  any  more;  Bob  and  I 
will  be  your  friends,  and  we'll  see  what  we  can  do  for  you;  so  cheer 
up. 

Enter  C.  to  room,  followed  by  SAGE,  and  goes  to  door. 

C.     (calling)     Brae !  B-r-a-c,  I  say  !  Brae  I 

Karl.    Some  one  coming?     I  must  not  be  seen.  (retire* 

Brae.     Comin',  mum ! 

Karl.     Brae,  meet  me  here  again  as  soon  as  you  can,  will  you? 

Brae.     Yes,  sir.     Good  bye ! 

BRAC  goes  to  the   house  and   enters   just  as   SAGE  is  coming  out,  runs 
against  and   almost  upsets  him. 

Sage.    Good  gracious,  my  corns!     (hastily)    I  mean  foot. 

C.  Oh,  you  imp!  What  do  you  mean  by  runnin'  against  folks, 
like  you  was  a  steam  locomotion? 

Brae.     Oh,  sir,  I— I  dUn't  mean  nothin'I 

•  Sage.     That's  all  right,  my  dear !  never  mind  about  it.     And  now 
Clarissa— 

BRAC  drops  dish  she  has.  in  her  hands  and  looks  astonished. 

Brae,     (aside)     Why,  he  called  her  by  her  front  name ! 

Sage.  I've  the  honor  of  wishing  you  a  very  good  morning.  Let 
me  say  that  we'll  commence  the  case  just  as  soon  as  you  °feel  so 
disposed. 

C.  You  are  too  kind,  Ransom,  and  I  can  never  repay  you  for  the 
obligations  that  you  heap  upon  me.  I  will  attend  to  the  matter  at 
once. 

Sage.     Good  morning,  madam  (exit  off  R 

C.     Good  mornin',  sir. 


BRAG;  THE  POOE  HOUSE  GIML.  19 

C.  turns  and  sees  BRAG  standing  over  tray. 

G.  You  just  march  yourself  away  from  there,  do  you  hear? 
(takes  tray  and  puts  it  in  next  room  and  brings  back  the  back  bone  of  a 
fish  and  gives  to  BRAG)  There,  now!  you've  been  a  good  girl,  and 
I  don't  mind  rewardin'  ye.  Don't  go  a  gorgin'  yourself  and  gettin' 
sick;  there's  nothin'  so  disgustin'  as  greediness. 

Brae.    Du  tell  ?  (BRAG  eats  what  little  there  is  left 

C.  Yes,  I  was  goin'  to;  I'm  goin'  to  live  in  the  best  hotel  in  the 
place. 

Brae.    Lor*  mum  I  (on  the  bone  of  the  fish 

C.    And  you  shall  go  and  live  with  me  and  be  my  little  maid. 

Brae.    Made  of  what,  mum  ? 

C.    Lady's  .maid,  child  I  to  dress  me  and  do  up  my  hair. 

Brae.  Do  your  hair?  I  thought  they  stayed  done  when  you 
bought  'em,  tnum  ? 

C.  What  are  you  talkin' about?  What  do  you  know  about  my 
hair? 

Brae.  I  know  it  always  do  look  beautiful  and  just  the  same, 
whether  it's  on  your  head  or  hangin'  on  the  back  of  the  chair. 

C.  You  saucy  brat!  but  you  shall  wait  on  me  and  run  my 
errands,  if  you  are  not  too  stupid. 

Brae.    Sho  1 

G.  And  now  I'm  goin'  over  to  call  on  Miss  Dorcas  Jones  and  see 
if  I  can  get  her  to  buy  my  stock  and  business. 

(putting  on  bonnet  and  shawl 

Brae.    For  the  land's  sake ! 

G.  So  you  pick  up  the  things  and  have  everything  in  good  order, 
for  I'm  going  to  try  and  bring  her  to  terms.  (exit  off  R. 

Brae.    Well,  I  never  I 

(BRAG  comes  out  front  of  stage,  and  KARL  joins  her 

Karl.     Brae,  is  that  your  aunt? 

Brae.  Her?  No,  she's  my  guard.  But  how  did  you  find  out 
my  name  ?  I  never  told  you. 

Karl.     Why,  didn't  I  hear  her  call  you  just  now  ? 

Brae.     She  did  holler  for  me,  didn't  she?    But  what's  your  name? 

Karl.    Didn't  I  ask  you  to  let  old  Karl  be  your  friend  ? 

Brae.  Oh,  yes !  and  I'm  to  call  you  Mr.  Karl— Mr.  Karl  and  Bob, 
and  Bob  and  Mr.  Karl. 

Karl.     Who  is  this  Bob  you  have  so  much  to  say  about? 

Brae.  Oh,  he's— he's— he's  real  nice  and  kind  and— and  just  like 
you,  only  he  don't  ask  questions  like  you. 

Karl.  Well!  well!  I  won't  ask  any  more  questions  that  will 
bother  you,  if  you  will  agree  to  introduce  me  to  him. 

Brae.  Lor*  sakes!  I'll  do  that  in  a  minute,  and  I  know  you'll 
like  each  other,  for  he's  so  good  and  clean  and— and  you  can't  help 
liking  him. 

Karl.  No,  I  suppose  not.  But,  Brae,  I  must  be  going;  but  I 
have  something  to  tell  you  of  great  value  to  you  arid  you  must  not 
forget  anything  that  I  say.  Have  you  a  silver  chain  around  your 
neck,  fastened  by  a  little  locket? 

Brae.     Yes,  sir! 

Karl.    Let  me  see  it. 
(the  *how  chain;  he  produces  key  and  unlocks   the  locket  and  relocks  it 


14  BE  A  C;  THE  P  0  OK  HO  USE  GIRL. 

again)  It  is  the  one  and  we  are  safe;  now,  don't  you  ever  show 
that  to  any  one  else,  or  say  that  you  have  such  a  chain,  if  any  one 
should  ask,  will  you  ? 

Brae.    No,  sir,  but — 

Karl.  Don't  ask  any  questions,  but  listen,  for  1  have  not  got 
time  to  explain  it  all  to  you  now.  I  may  not  see  you  again  for  some 
time,  but  promise  me  that  you  will  hold  no  conversation  whatever 
with  any  one  in  private. 

Brae,     (confused)     What!  not  even  Bob? 

Karl.  Yes,  you  may  talk  with  Bob  all  you  like,  but  no  one  else; 
and  don't  ever  go  away  from  the  house"  with  any  one  else  except 
Bob  or  myself,  unless  some  one  brings  you  this  key;  and  when  any 
one  shows  you  this,  and  asks  you  to  go  with  them,  be  sure  and  go; 
and  now,  one  thing  more — don't  ever  stay  in  the  house  alone,  do  you 
promise? 

Brae.     Yes,  sir,  but — but  why? 

Karl.  If  you  wish  to  find  out  about  your  father  and  mother 
don't  forget  what  I  have  told  you ;  and  now,  as  I  see  your  aunt 
coming,  you  had  better  go  in ;  so  good  bye,  little  one ! 

(exit  B.  1  E. 

Brae.     Good  bye,  Mr.  Karl. 

(exit  through  gate  c.  and  around  the  house 

Enter  C.  and  DORCAS  into  room. 

C.  There,  I  told  you  it  wasn't  goin'  to  rain,  you  see  its  all  clear- 
in'  up! 

Dorcas.  Yes,  and  I  suppose  thai  the  business  that  you  want  to 
sell  me  wants  clearin'  up,  too? 

C.  Yes,  mum!  You'll  find  even  thing  in  fust  class  shape,  and — 
oh,  Dorcas,  his  voice  haunts  me  still ! 

Dorcas.  I  dare  say  it  does.  If  a  fellow  had  come  to  tell  me  about 
half  a  million,  his  voice  wonld  haunt  me  for  a  long  time. 

C.  But  I  mean  there  seems  to  be  a  something — a  sympathetic 
chord— what  do  you  call  it? — a  vibration  in  the  heart. 

Dorcas.  Oh,  I  suppose  like  that  funny  bone  in  the  elbow;  I've 
had  more  experience  in  such  matters,  and  I  tell  you,  it's  love. 

C.  Yes,  I  suppose  so.  (sighs)  I'm  a  woman  and  it  must  come 
sometime. 

Dorcas.  Well,  it's  taken  plenty  of  time  to  come.  But,  good 
gracious!  there's  half-million  to  comfort  you. 

C.  Yes,  that's  so!  But  as  I  was  sayin',  I  thought  that  you 
might  like  to  join  the  business— dressmakin' and  millinery  goes  to 
gether  so  well,  you  know.  I'll  sell  out  cheap,  for  I  want  the  money 
to  carry  on  my  case. 

Dorcas.    Oh,  he  isn't  goin'  to  do  it  for  love,  then? 

C.  I  couldn't  scarcely  ask  that  on  so  short  acquaintance.  So,  if 
you  like  to  take  the  business  out  and  out,  we  won't  haggle  about 
the  terms,  and  you  can  get  a  milliner  from  the  city  to  help  3^011. 
The  people  will  miss  the  character  and  poetry  I  put  into  my  bun- 
nets,  but  I  must  carry  my  talents  to  another  sphere.  I  think  of 
buying  an  old  ancestral  place  that's  been  handed  down,  you  know. 
I  can  see  myself  treadin'  the  marble  halls — 

Dorcas.  Look  out  for  rhumatiz !  You're  sure  it's  all  right,  or 
vou  wouldn't  want  to  sell.  Well,  I've  been  wantin'  to  enlarge  my 
business  and  as  I've  got  a  few  hundred  saved  up — of  course  you'lj 
ligd  papers  not  to  open  again. 


BRA C  ;  THE  POOR  HOUSE  GIRL.  15 

C.  Open  1  Dorcas  Jones,  why  should  the  lucky  possessor  of  half 
a  million  wish  to  open  a  millinery  shop? 

Dorcas.    Oh,  I  don't  know.    Riches    take  wing,  you  know. 

C.  Yes,  but  I  shall  take  wings  with  my  riches.  What  do  you 
say  to  five  hundred  dollars  for  my  business. 

Dorcas.    Five  hundred  1     Hum,  I'll  give  you  one-fifty  for  it. 

C.  I'll  take  it,  Dorcas!  and  I'll  agree  to  buy  my  bunnets  of  you 
in  the  bargin. 

Dorcas.  Well,  then,  snpposiu'  we  go  over  to  Square  Smart's  and 
have  everything  fixed  up. 

C.  That's  the  ideal  Dorcas,  I  always  told  people  that  you  hal  a 
wonderfully  level  head  about  business;  but,  Lor'  me,  how  dark  its 
grown.  My  sakes,  if  we  ain't  goin'  to  have  a  turnado  then  I  ain't  a 
foot  high  I  (thunders 

Dorcas.  Gracious  me,  how  I  wish  I  was  home.  Clarissa,  have 
you  got  any  feathers?  if  so,  do  let  me  get  between  them  or  I  know 
I  shall  be  killed.  (thunders  and  lightens 

C.  Oh,  Lord!  Come  quick,  Dorcas  !  Oh,  my  sensibilities  !  Oh, 
Dorcas,  if  we  don't  get  on  the  bed  before  another  flash,  I  shall  be 
come  flustrated  right  here  on  the  floor.  (exit  in  haste  at  side  door 

SCENE  II— Roadside  or  street.    Enter  JOHN,  R.  1  E.,  with  cloak  and 
wide  hat.    Heavy  storm — stage  dark. 

John.  This  shower  is  coming  along  just  in  time.  I  must  silence 
this  intruder.  I  wonder  who  he  can  be?  What  I  Some  one  com 
ing!  (steps  aside 

Enter  KARL  R.  1  E.  JOHN  advances  and  hits  KARL  with  butt  of  revol 
ver  and  as  he  falls  stabs  him;  this  is  followed  by  a  vivid  flash  of 
lightning  and  very  heavy  crash  of  thunder.  JOHN  starts  as  if 
*  truck,  and  trembles  violently;  takes  bottle  from  pocket  and  drinks. 

John.  My  God !  What  a  crash  that  was !  I  thought  the  whole 
forest  was  crashing  down  about  my  head.  I  must  get  away  from 
here,  but — I  wonder  if  he  has  any  papers  that  I  might  want.  I'll 
see  (looks  around  and  then  searches  him;  a  bicycle  whistle  is  heard] 
Confound  it  I  am  I  to  be  driven  off"  before— (whistle  again)  Curse 
their  bicycles !  (exit  in  haste  R.  1  E. 

Enter  BOB  on  bicycle  R.  1  E.,  whistles  as   he  comes  on;  sees  KARL  and 

dismounts. 

Sob.  Here's  some  poor  fellow  that  has  been  struck  down  by  the 
storm.  Hallo!  he's — he's  been  murdered !  (discovers  he  still  lives 
and  tries  to  wake  him)  Why — Thank  God  !  he  still  lives. 

Produces  flask  and  turns  some  down  KARL'S  throat;  KARL  groans  and 
turns:  BOB  gives  more  brandy  and  KARL  opens  his  eyes,  rises  up 
and  looks  about,  then  sinks  back. 

Karl.  Who  are  you  ?  Where  am  1  ?  What  has  happened  ?  Oh, 
I  remember;  John  struck  me  again.  I  saw  his  face  by  a  flash  of 
lightning. 

Sob.  There,  there,  sir !  be  quiet  ami  I'll  run  and  get  help  and 
take  you  home. 


16  Bit  AC;  THE  POOH  HOUSE  GIEL. 

Karl.  No— no— wait  a  minute  and  I'll  go  along  with  you.  But— 
you  haven't  told  me  who  you  are? 

Bob.  I  am  Robert  Wilder,  commonly  colled  Bob.  f  was  riding 
home  on  my  bicycle  and  saw  you  and  thought  that  you  had  been 
hurt  by  the  storm,  and  BO  dismounted  to  see  if  I  could  be  of  any 
assistance;  I  never  dreamed  of  its  being  a  case  of  attempted  murder. 

Karl.    Bob— Bob— I  remember  now;  do  you  know  Brae? 

Bob.  Know  Brae !  Well,  I  should  say  that  I  did  ;  why,  she  is  such 
an  innocent  little  thing  that  any  one  can  get  acquainted  with  her; 
and  then,  she's  as  smart  as  a  steel  trap,  and  is  so  ambitious  to  learn. 
It's  a  pity  that  she  can't  be  sent  to  school ;  and  she  don't  get  half 
enough  to  eat.  I  ju>t  wish  that  I  was  of  age  and  I'd  take  her  away 
fronAhat  keeper  of  hers  and  send  her  to  school.  I  tell  you  what  it 
is  I  think  more  of  Brae  than  I  do  of  my  bicycle.  But  1  forgot  you, 
sir.  Can  I  do  anything  for  you  ? 

Karl.  Yes,  you  can  help  me  get  upon  my  feet,  and  then  I  11  go  to 
the  nearest  house. 

Bob.     I'm  afraid  you  will  hurt  yourself,  sir. 

Karl.  "Not  at  all,  my  friend  Bob,  I'm  all  right  now.  Come 
along,  sir.  This  is  not  the  end  of  this  matter. 


End  of  Act   First. 

CURTAIN. 

ACT  II. 


SCENE— The  lou-n  in  front  of  Avoca  Farm,   containing   trees,  rustic 
seats,  etc.,  etc.     Enter  John,  R.  1  K. 

John  So  old  Sage  has  taken  up  the  ca£e  for  the  ancient  relative, 
and  he  seems  to  be  quite  interested  in  the  personal  affairs  of  hia 
rlient  Now  it  I  let  him  go  on  until  he  is  so  far  in  his  own  trap 
that  he'll  have  to  marry  this  Clarissa  of  his,  I  shall  at  least  have 
done  one  good  deed,  and  he  is  rich  enough  to  make  her  comfortable 
even  after  I  take  away  Luke's  fortune,  and  so  Til  keep  the  case 
standing,  while  I  must  try  and  win  Brae's  love,  or  else— ah,  here 
she  comes  now ! 

Enter  BRAC,  L.  1  B.,  sees  JOHN  and  turns  to  go  back. 

John.  Ah,  Brae,  you  are  just  in  time.  I've  been  trying  ever 
since  you  came  here,  to  see  you. 

Brae     You've  seen  me  three  times  a  day  for  the  last  three  weeks. 

John.  Yes,  I  know,  but  I  wanted  to  see  you  alone.  Do  you  know 
you've*  improved  wonderfully  since  you  came  here? 

Brae,  (aside)  More  taffy  1  (aloud')  And  do  you  know  you  grow 
more  like  a  bumble-bee  every  day  ? 

John.    You  say  that  because  I'm  always  flying  after  you  ? 

Brae.    $  o,  but  because  you  are  a  hum-bug. 

John.    Brae,  what  can  I  say  or  do  that  will  make   you  think  more 

°f  Brae.    I  guess  that  you'd  have  to  stand  in  front  of  me  all  the  time 
and  then  I'd  forget. 


BE  AC;  THE  POOH  HOUSE  GIRL.  17 

John.  An\  I  never  forget  you.  If  you  only  knew  of  all  the 
anxious  hours  I  pass  when  away  from  your  society,  if  you  knew  of 
the  depth  of  my  regard  for  you,  you  would  at  least  pity  and  spare 
me  from  being  the  o^j^ct  of  your  ridicule. 

Brae,  (aside)  lie  was  his  muzzer's  own  boy,  so  he  was.  (aloud) 
I'm  awful  sorry  for  yon,  but  I'll  tell  you  what  to  do! 

John.     Well,  what'is  it,  pet?  (advances  toward  her 

Brae.     Oo  and  take  some  paregoric. 

John.     But  you  don't  understand  me— 

Brae,     (aside)     No.  nor  I  don't  mean  to,  either ! 

John.     I  do  not  suffer  from  any  physical  illness — 

Brae,     (aside)     I  should  judge  not  by  the  way  you  eat. 

John.     Mine  is  a  mental  sickness. 

Brae.     My  !  what  a  surprise  that  must  be  to  your  head. 

John.  I  am  afraid  your  love  of  fun  will  lose  YOU  many  friends  if 
you  don't  look  out,  for  you  are  very  rude  at  times.  But,  Brae  I 
want  to  ask  your  advice  about  a  very  import  matter. 

Brae.  It's  very  important  thnt  you  should  have  my  advice  too  I 
suppose? 

John.    Yes,  decidedly  so ! 

Brae.  Well,  you  shall  have  it,  only  don't  get  mad  if  I  happen  to 
speak  too  plain. 

Enter  BOB,  R.,  sees  them,  stops  ond  listens, 

John.     Now,  Brae,  I'm  in  love — 

Brae.     Oh,  sho!  that's  nothing  new  to  you  ! 

John.  Yes  it  is,  though,  frr  I'm  really'in  love  this  time,  with  the 
best  little  woman  in  the  world.  She  is  very  poor  and  as  proud  as 
she  is  poor,  while  she  knows  that  I  am  rich  and  can  give  her 
everything  that  would  make  a  fine  lady  of  her,  yet  I  would  gladlv 
giveaway  my  wealih  and  work  for  her,  if  she  would  only  try  and 
le.irn  to  love  me.  This  is  my  story,  Brae;  what  would  you  advise 
me  to  do?  I  don't  know  just  how  to  tell  her,  for  she  is  so  shy  and 
proud  that  it  is  with  great  difficulty  thnt  I  ever  see  her  at  all  and 
then  she  always  puts  a  stop  to  my  conversation  whenever  I  com 
mence  to  speak  of  her.  Now,  how  shall  I  manage  to  tell  her? 

Brae.  And  that's  why  you  never  srni'e  or  look  happy  now  I'm 
real  ashamed  of  the  way  I  have  treated  you,  but  I— I  thought  that 
you  was  awful  cross  and— and  you  always  looked  at  me  so  strange 
like,  that  you  made  me  afraid  of  you,  but  I'm  awful  sorry  now. 

John.  Thank  you,  Brae,  I  knew  that  you  had  a  kind  and  honest 
heart;  but  you  are  not  afraid  of  me  now,  are  you? 

(comrs  up  and  takes  her  hand;  she  draws  it  away  and  steps  back 

Brae.  I— I  don't  know;  but  my  advice— I  must  give  you  that— 
(speaks  very  alow)  Well,  Mr.  Perkins,  if  I  was  in  your  place  the 
very  next  time  that  I  saw  her  I  would  tell  her  that  t  loved  her  and 
then  ask  her— No,  I  wouldn't!  I'd  tell  her  the  story  just  as  you've 
told  me  and  then  ask  her  for  advice  and  then — 

John.     And  then  what,  Brae? 


Brae.     But  you  haven't  told  me  what  she  looks  like,  yet? 

JoJ*1**  A  nrl    T*rr\?il/I    TT^MI    1 i  IT-/*   4-f\   K>-.^-.w^O 

Br 
fore. 


John.    And  would  you  likjs  to  know? 

Brae.     Oh,  ever  so  much  !  for  I  never  heard  a  real   love  story    be- 


18  BUAC;  THE  POOH  HOUSE  Q1EL. 

John.  Well,  then,  listen  I  (gives  description  of  BRAC 

Brae.  Why,  that's  almost  me ! 

John.  Yes,  Brae,  it  is  you  1  and  I  want  you  to  be  mine,  will  you, 
darling  ? 

Puts  his  arm  around  her  and  sloops  to  kiss  her.    She  jumps  away  and 
slaps   his  face. 

Brae.  Sir,  if  I  am  poor,  I  know  what's  honorable,  and  I'd  sooner 
etarve  than  live  with  you. 

John.  Beware,  young  lady,  or  you  may  have  a  chance  to  do  as 
you  say,  for  if  something  should  be'missed  from  the  house  and  found 
on  you,  you  would  lose  your  place,  and  then  who  would  have  a  thief 
in  their  house;  mind  I  don't  say  that  this  will  happen,  nor  do  I 
mean  to  reflect  on  your  honesty. 

Brae.  My  honesty  has  as  yet  never  been  questioned ;  and  as  for 
your  threats  1  don't  care  that  for  them  (snaps  her  fingers)  or  you 
either. 

John.  Have  a  care  I  you  are  getting  too  high ;  you'll  fall  before 
long. 

Brae.  Tou'll  never  be  trcubled  that  way,  for  you  are  so  low  that 
you  can't  fall. 

Exit  JOHN,  L.,  in  a  rage.    BOB  comes  forward. 

Bob.    You  had  him  that  time,  Brae. 

Brae.    Oh,  Bob  I  did  you  herr  him? 

Bob.  Yes,  Brae,  I  heard  all,  for  you  know  that  I  promised  Mr. 
Karl  not  to  lose  sight  of  you  while  he  was  away. 

Br&c.  And  I  promised*  not  to  talk  to  any  one  but  you  and — and  I 
forgot  all  about  it.  Oh,  what  will  he  think? 

Bob.  You  promised  not  to  talk  in  private,  and  you  did  not  for  I 
was  here  and  heard  all  that  was  said,  and  I  came  very  near  knock 
ing  that  man  down  before  he  got  through.  Brae,  I'm  so  glad  that 
you — you  refused  him. 

BRAC  sits  on  rustic,  bench;  BOB  sits  beside  her. 
Brae.    And  so  be  I,  and — ain't  you  getting  too  near? 

BOB  moves  up  and  puts  his  arm  around  her. 

Bob.    Brae,  do  you  know  I'm — I — I  wonder  where  Mr.  Karl  is? 

Brae.    I  don't  know,  but — say,  ain't  you  afraid — of — of— 

Bob.     Of  thatrerkins?    No, I'm  not. 

Brae.  No,  I  mean — ain't  you  afraid  of— haven't  you  grown 
afraid  of— of  powder? 

Bob.  (aside)  My  stars,  that's  a  straight  one!  (kisses  her;  aloud) 
Do  you  think  that  1  have? 

Brae.    A— little  1 

Bob.  Well,  I  won't  be  again.  But,  Brae,  did  you  know  that  I 
was  going  away  ? 

Brae*    You  going  away?     Why,  what  for? 

Bob.  I  must  go  back  to  school  lor  another  year,  and — I  want  you 
to  be  sure  and — remember  me,  won't  you? 

Brae.  Oh,  why  must  you  go  away  so  soon?  First  Mr.  Karl  goes 
away  without  even  e:iy  ing  good  bve,  tlx-n  I  have  to  lose  you. 

Bob.     Do  you  think  tliut  you  will  miss  me  very  much,  Brae? 


BE  AC;  TEE  POOR  HOUSE  GIRL.  & 

Brae.    Yes,  lots ;  and— I  shall  be  awful  lonesome  when   you  are 

g°JEfo&.  I  shall  miss  you  very  much  for  I've  been  learning  to  love 
you  more  and  more  ever  since  I  first  saw  you. 

Brae.    In  love  with  me  1  you  ? 

Bob.  Yes,  in  love  with  you,  Brae.  But  I  can't  offer  you  a  for 
tune,  for  I  am  not  wealthy. 

Brae.    You  love  me !— sure  ?— no  joking  ? 

Bob.    Yes,  I'm  sure,  and  no  joking. 

Brae.  Well,  then,  you  can  have  me,  for  I— I  love  you!  (draws 
herself  slowly  away  from  him)  But,  Bob,  this  can  never  be!.  You 
are  to  far  above  me  for  you  to  think  of  ever  making  me  your  wife, 
for  I  am  not  educated  enough  to  go  with  the  same  people  that  you 
do,  and— and  I  couldn't  bear  to  see  you  ashamed  of  me. 

Bob.  But  I'll  send  you  some  books  so  you  can  learn;  and  you 
must  write  and  let  me  know  how  you  are  getting  along,  mil  you? 

Brae.    Yes. 

Bob.    Now,  good  bye.  (they  embrace 

Enter  C.  and  SAGE,  R. 
C.    What— what  does  this  mean  ? 

BRAC  and!  BOB  go  to  opposite  sides  of  stage. 

Brae.     I— I— don't  know,  mum. 

Bob.  It  means— that— that  I  was— was  only  showing  Brae  how  to 
teach  a  dog  arithmetic. 

C.     (aside)     I  wish  Ransom  would  be  my  teacher. 

Sage.    Ha!  ha!  ha!     Well,  that's  good  !     And  how  do  you  do  it? 

Bob.  Why,  you  just  tie  up  one  of  his  paws,  and  he'll  put  down 
three  and  carry  one,  every  time. 

C.    Lor'  sakes  I 

Sage.  Young  man,  you've  got  quite  a  start  in  the  world,  but 
don't  try  to  go  too  fast;  take  it  easy  and  you'll  come  out  all  right  in 
time.  Just  look  at  me,  now  I'm  a  self-made  man. 

Brae.    If  I  had  done  the  job  I'd  have  put  more  hair  on  your  head. 

C.  Stop  your  noise,  you  imp !  Don't  you  have  any  respect  for 
no  one?  (BRAG  and  BOB  walk  to  and  fro  at  rear  of  stage)  Dear 
Ransom,  you  must  not  mind  them;  they  are  young  and  foolish, 
and  must  have  their  jokes. 

Sage.  My  dear  Clarissa,  I  don't  mind  them  in  the  least,  and  if  I 
did,  how  could  I  so  far  forget  your  charming  presence.  Believe  me, 
this  is  the  happiest  moment  of  my  life. 

C.  Oh,  and  the  cruelty  of  the  fates  to  have  kept  us  apart  for  so 
many  years,  when  we  wras  born  for  each  other;  as  the  poet  says : 

"Two  soul?  with  but  a  single   thought, 
Two  hearts  that  beat  as  one." 

Sage.  But  I  reem  to  have  known  you  all  my  life,  and  after  we 
get  this  law  bu«ino?s  settled,  I  know  where  to  find  a  very  appro 
priate  companion  to  journey  through  the  walks  of  life  with  me. 

C.  (aside)  That's  just  like  poetry  I  He's  so  poetical !  (albud) 
And  how  is  the  case  coming  out?  I  wish  that  it  was  all  settled 
now. 

Sage.  Well,  you  know  that  I  had  the  thing  almost  settled  day 
before  yesterday,  when  in  comes  another  lawyer  with  a  dispatch 


*0  BE  A  C  ;  THE  POOH  HO  USE  OIEL. 

from  India,  saying  that  there  had  been  some  important  facts  dis 
covered  in  regard  to  the  case,  and  so  he  got  it  laid  over  until  he 
could  go  to  India  and  collect  his  proofs  and  so  on;  and  as  the  case 
cannot  be  called  without  him,  we  shall  have  to  let  it  hang  for  a 
time.  So  I  thought  that  I'd  run  down  and  inform  yon  of  the  facts, 
and  also  enjoy  the  pleasure  of  your  charming  companionship. 

C.  You  are  very,  very  thoughtful  of  me.  But  you  must  be 
quite  famished,  for  you  liave  not  had  any  dinner  yet.  Brae,  what 
time  is  it? 

Lob.     It's  just  twelve,  madam. 

C.    Only  twelve  1   why,  I  thought  it  must  be  more  than  that. 

Brae.     It's  never  more,  mum,  it  just  begins  at  one  again. 

C.  For  the  land  sake !  You  are  gettiu'  so  smart  of  late,  that 
there's  no  tellin'  where  you'll  stop. 

Sage.  Never  mind,  my  dear;  you  know  the  old  saying  that 
"boys  will  be  boys,"  and  why  should  not  "girls  be  girls." 

SAGE  and  C.  exit  L.,  talking. 

Brae.  That  makes  twice  to-day  that  she  has  almost  complimented 
me. 

Bob.     Why,  how  was  that? 

Brae.  She  just  said  that  I  was  "so  smart,"  and  this  morning  she 
almost  called  me  honey. 

Bob.    Almost? 

Brae.    Yes,  she  said,  "come,  now,  beeswax,  fly  around." 

Bob.  Bather  doubtful  compliments,  I  should  think.  But  1  be 
lieve  that  you  told  me  that  she  had  taken  up  painting.  How  does  it 
agree  with  her? 

Brae.  I  don't  think  it  is  very  healthy,  for  it  makes  her  awful  red 
In  the  face.  (bell  rings 

Bob.  Hallo!  there's  the  dinner  bell,  and  we  must  start  or  weM 
be  late.  (exit  both  to  house 

Enter  JOHN,  n. 

John.  No  one  here !  good !  I  must  have  that  Brace  disgraced, 
branded  as  a  thief  and.  sent  away,  for  lean  never  make  her  think 
that  I  love  her;  then  after  she  leaves,  I'll  find  her  and  persuade  her 
to  enter  a  convent.  Once  there  I  need  have  no  more  fear  of  her; 
but  in  case  she  should  refuse  to  enter  that  haven  of  rest,  I  know  a 
Biire  way  to  stop  her  tongue.  I  was  extremely  fortunate  in  finding 
her  asleep  the  other  day,  and  with  the  aid  of  a  little  ether,  I  obtained 
an  impression  of  that  locket  and  chain  which  has  been  a  draw-back 
for  so  long.  I  never  dared  ask  her  for  it,  and  she  never  wore  it  in 
sight;  but  I  have  it  at  last,  and  now  for  a  chance  to  hide  my  ring  in 
her  room  and  then,  the  crime  once  fastened  on  her,  she  can't  escape 
me.  (exit  L. 

Enter  BRAC  from  house. 

Brae.  A  letter  for  me!  I  wonder  who  it's  from?  Oh,  it's  from 
Mr.  Karl,  and  he  says: — "Dear  Brae,  (thal's  me)  I  shall  come  to 
Avoca  Farm  to-night  and  want  to  see  you  alone.  Don't  let  any  one 
see  this  letter  and  don't  tell  any  one  that  you  are  coming  to  see  me, 
not  even  Bob.  I  send  JTOU  the  key  go  that  you  may  know  that  this 
comes  from  me.  Now  don't  fail  to  be  on  the  lawn  in  front  of  th« 


BRAG;  TEE  POOH  HOUSE  GIRL.  tl 

house  at  ten  o'clock,  sharp,  to-night,  as  I  must  see  you  at  once. 
Remember,  at  ten  to-night.  Yours  truly,  FRANK  KARL."  What 
a  funny  man  he  is  !  I  don't  know  as  its  proper  for  me  to  come  out 
to  see  a  man  so  late,  but  I'm  comin'  and  I'll  take  that  revolver  gun 
Bob  gave  me  and  if  it's  any  one  else  but  Mr.  Karl,  1  11 

Enter  BOB  from  house. 

Bob.    Who's  that  you  are  going  to  shoot,  Brae? 

Brae.    No  one— I— I  was  only  saying  a  piece  that  I  learned. 

Bob.    Why,  Brae,  where  did  you  get  that  letter? 

Brae.     I— I  had  it  sent  to  me  by— 

Bob.    By  who?  by  that  clodhopper  of  a  farmei  ? 

Brae,  No,  not  by  him  ;  it  was  sent  by— oh,  Bob,  I  can  t  tell  you 
now;  you  must  wait  until  tomorrow. 

Bob.    No,  I  can't!  I  won't  wait!  let  me  see  who  it's  from. 

Brae  Bob  you  have  no  right  to  speak  to  me  like  tnat,  if  you  are 
my  friend.  (exit  into  house 

Bob.    Brae,  I— I  didn't  mean  it !    Oh,  what  a  fool  I've  been. 

Enter  JOHN,  R. 
John.    And  always  will  be  as  long  as  you  let   that  girl   control 

Bob.  Sir  I  I  don't  know  what  right  you  have  to  interfere  with 
my  affairs;  and  as  for  that  young  lady,  I  won't  hear  a  word  against 
her  from  you  or  any  one  else. 

John.  Oh,  as  you  please  I  Only  don't  be  surprised  to  see  your 
idol  fall  to  the  ground  some  day. 

Bob.  What  do  you  mean?  Have  a  care,  sir,  or  I  shall  be  tempted 
to  thrash  you,  you  sneak  I 

John.  What  I  you  thrash  me?  Hal  ha!  ha!  Well,  thai/ s  good  I 
But  let  me  advise  you  to  beware  how  you  call  names,  or  I  may  do 
what  you  threaten. 

Bob.  I  should  like  to  have  you  attempt  it,  sir !  I'm  not  afraid  of 
you,  and  as  for  names,  I  say  to  your  face  that  you  are  a  coward. 
(Good  day, — sir !  (bows  and  walks  off  slowly,  L. 

John.  Curse  his  impudence!  Ah,  here  comes  Anna!  How 
lucky  he  left  in  just  the  nick  of  time ;  now  to  give  her  some  informa 
tion  as  to  the  part  that  she  must  take. 

It  grows  dark  as  night   is  approaching.     Enter  ANNA,  R. 

John.    You  are  on  time,  I  see,  Anna.  (looks  at  watch 

Anna.    That's  more  than  I  can  ever  say  of  you. 

John.  We  have  no  time  to  talk  over  old  stories,  so  if  you'll  listen 
I'll  tell  you  why  I  sent  for  you. 

Anna.    Very  well ! 

John.  You  seem  highly  interested  and  if  you  display  as  much 
zeal  in  the  pursuit  of  this  object,  we  will  undoubtedly  have  excellent 
success.  But  the  reason  I  sent  for  you  is  this.  There  was  a  large 
fortune  left  by  a  friend  of  mine  in  India,  to  his  wife  and  child  in 
this  country,  and  as  they  are  both  dead,  I  propose  to  get  possession 
of  this  property. 

Anna.     And  what  has  all  this  to  do  with  me? 

John.     Everything,  if  you    wish    to   become    independently   rich, 


»  PR  AC;  THE  POOE  HOUSE  GIRL. 

and  will  do  as  I  wish ;  now  I  want  you  to  b  j  this  girl   and  to  claim 
this  fortune. 

Anna.     Anil  hofr  am  I  to  accomplish  this? 

John.  Why,  you  were  left  an  orphan  and  was  adopted  and  edu 
cated  by  some  kind  people  who  have  lately  defied,  and  it  was  shortly 
after  their  death  that  I  discovered  you  and  brought  you  here,  and 
put  your  claims  in  the  courts  for  you. 

Anna  .     And  why  go  to  court  about  it  if  I  am  the  only  heir? 

John.  I  am  glad  to  see  you  display  so  much  interest  at  last. 
(gives  her  a  letter  and  package)  Here  is  a  letter  that  will  explain  all, 
besides  giving  you  what  instructions  you  may  require;  and  as  re 
gards  the  key  to  the  chain,  that,  of  course,  must  be  returned  to  me. 

Anna.     What  am  I  to  receive  for  all  the  trouble  and  risk  I  run  ? 

John.     One-half  the  fortune,  and  the  love  of  your  humble  servant. 

Anna.  Bah  I  (snaps  her  fingers)  that  for  your  iove  1  I've  tried 
it  too  often  to  have  any  faith  in  it. 

John.  Come,  now,  Anna,  you  must  not  quarrel  with  your  dear 
old  Jack— 

Anna.  That's  enough  of  that!  I'll  agree  to  do  this  if  you  are 
sure  that  the  rightful  heirs  are  dead,  not  from  any  love  for  you,  but 
because  it  promises  to  give  me  wealth;  and  if  one-half  of  this  for 
tune  is  not  left  entirely  with  me — Til  destroy  it  wholly,  as  far  as 
you  are  concerned — do  you  hear  ? 

John.     Have  a  care,  woman,  I'm  not  to  be  crossed  in   this  -matter  ! 

Anna.  John  Perkins,  you  are  not  dealing  with  the  little  innocent 
girl  you  betrayed  four  years  ago,  but  with  one  who  knows  you,  and 
how  to  take  care  of  herself,  and  does  not  fear  you  in  the  leasr, 
coward  that  you  are.  Now,  if  you  have  anything  further  to  say  iu 
regard  to  the  plans,  I  will  hear  you. 

John.  Nothing,  except  that  you  must  let  me  know  where  to  find 
you  at  any  moment. 

Anna.  And  yo'u  must  keep  me  informed  as  to  the  progress  of  the 
aft'air,  and  we'll  get  this  fortune,  if  you  have  told  me  the  truth  about 
the  matter;  for  I  shall  have  it  looked  up  and  if  you  have  lied,  it  will 
be  a  sorry  day's  work  for  you  when  you  took  me  into  your  secret. 

John.     Can  you.  doubt  me? 

Anna.     Have  I  ever  had  any  reason  to  believe  you,  you  traitor? 

(exit  ANNA,  R. 

John.  Curse  her!  what  a  tiger  she's  got  to  be;  I'll  tame  her,  be 
fore  I  get  through  with  her— and  now  for  Brae,  she  must  go  at  once. 
(looks  at  watch)  Why,  it's  most  ten  o'clock  and  as  I've  put  in  quite 
a  good  day's  work,  I'll  retire  to  the  house,  there  to  arrange  for  get 
ting  rid  of  Brae— the  last  of  these  obstacles.  J  did  not  know  it  was 
S9  late  or  I  would  have  accompanied  Anna  to  her  destination. 

(exit  into  house 
Enter  KARL,  R. 

Karl.  1  wonder  who  that  woman  was  th.-it  I  surprised  watching 
the  house  and  muttering  to  herself;  all  that  I  could  hear  was,  "Will 
youl  we'll  see  who'll  do  the  taming."  Well,  it  was  some  poor 
domestic  that  has  been  discharged  probably .  It  must  be  most  ten 
by  this  time.  I  wonder  if  Brae  has  faith  enough  in  mo  to  keep  the 
appointment;  if  she  don't,  I  shall  have  to  take  Bob  into  ray  con 
fidence,  (clock  strikes  ten)  There's  the  hour,  and  no — ah,  hero  she 
comes.  This  way,  Brae. 


BRAC;   THE  POOR  HOUSE  GIRL.  23 

Bmc.  Oh,  Mr.  Karl  I  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you  I  But  why  didn't 
you.  come  earlier? 

Karl.  Because  I  could  not;  and  now  I  must  tell  you  why  lam 
here.  There  is  an  enemy  of  yours  in  this  house  and  he  is  about  to 
do  you  a^great  injury,  and  the  only  way  that  you  will  escape  it  is  to 
leave  here. 

Brae.  An  enemy  to  me !  "Why,  I  never  did  any  one  any  wrong 
that  would  make  them  hate  me,  and  I  can't  leave  here  for  I  have  no 
place  to  go  and  no  friends.  I  shall  starve —  (falls  on  seat 

Karl.  Brae,  I  will  he  your  friend.  I  want  you  to  leave  here  and 
go  with  me.  I  have  already  made  arrangements  at  a  boarding 
school  for  your  education,  and  as  I  have  money  enough  and  have  no 
one  to  look  out  for,  I  am  going  to  take  you  in  charge  for  a  while. 
Now,  if  you  want  to  go  school  and  have  everything  that  you  want, 
all  you  linve  got  to  do  is  to  go  in  and  get  your  hat  and  come  along. 

Brae.     Oh,  how  kind  of  you  ;  but  you  must  ask  my  guard. 

Karl.  No,  Brae,  for  I  have  not  got  the  time,  and  besides  she 
has  no  right  to  be  consulted  about  this.  Now  hurry  up,  for  my 
team  is  waiting  for  us. 

Brae.     Well,  I'll  run  in  and  say  good  bye,  and — 

Karl.  No,  you  must  not  let  a  sonl  know  that  you  are  going,  nor 
must  you  let  them  know  where  you  are. 

Brdc.    Not — not  even — Bob? 

Karl  No,  not  Bob— yes,  you  may  wri^e  Bob  after  you  have  been 
away  for  two  weeks,  but  he  must  not  tell  any  one  else  where  you 
are;  now  take  this  ((jives  letter]  and  go  to  your  room  and  copy  it, 
and  then  take  your  hat  and  come  out;  go  as  quietly  and  quickly  as 
possible,  while  I  go  and  get  the  team.  (exit  R. 

Brae,  (going  to  house  and  turns  at  door)  I  won  ler  if  I'm  doing 
right;  but  he's  so  honest  that  I  know  he  won't  harm  me,  and  then 
it'll  be  such  a  suprise  to  my  enemy  and  my  guard,  to  wake  up  and 
lina  me  gome;  and  then  I'm  to  go  to  school  and  have  all  the  dresses 
and  money  I  want,  and  I'll  study  ever  so  hard  go's  to  be  like  Bob. 
Yes,  I'll  go !  (exit  BRAC  into  house 

Enter  KARL,    R. 

Karl.  So  far,  so  good !  I  had  an  easier  time  getting  her  to  go 
than  I  expected,  but  I  think  that  I  should  have  taken  he.i  anyway, 
for  I  am  getting  afraid  of  that  John  ;  it's  about  time  he  tried  some 
thing  else  besides  love  to  get  that  money.  Hallo,  here  she  is  now  ! 
Are  you  all  ready,  little  one? 

Brae.  Yes,  sir.  (KARL  leads  her  off;  she  turns}  Good  bye,  Bob  ! 
Good  bye,  everybody !  (exit  both,  to  the  right 

Scene  changes  to  early  morning.     Enter  SAGE  from  left. 

Sage.  What  a  lovely  morning!  Oh,  what  a  vast  difference  one 
finds  between  the  mornings  in  a  city  and  in  a  place  like  this,  where 
all  the  beauties  of  nature  are  temptingly  displayed  to  the  eye.  If  I 
were  hn  artist  that  I  would  transfer  the  scene  to  canvas. 

C.  rushes  from  house  with  letter  in  her  hand. 

C.     Oh,  Ransom,  catch  me,  I — I  faint!  (falls  in  his  arms 

Sage.  Oh,  tliou  fairest  of  all  flowers!  it  is  with  extreme  joy  that 
I  embrace  thee  again.  She  grows  heavy!  (places  her  on  a  seat) 


A0  BRA  C  :  THE  POOS  HOUSE  GIRL. 

Now  let  the  gentle  zephyrs  and  the  pearly  dews  restore  thee  to  thine 
own  animated  self  again.  (llQhis  c^ar 

C.    Oh,  Ransom  I  what  shall  I  do? 

Sage.    Whatever  you  do,  my  variegated  pink,  don't  faint  this  way 


ag£in*  Oh   my  sensibilities  and  high  strung  nervous  organization  are 
completely  earthquakcd.    Read  this    (gives   letter)    and  know  1 
cause  of  my  commotion. 

Saae.  (aside)  I'd  rather  not  if  it's  contagions,  (reads  letter  aloud) 
"Dear  Guard  :  You  will  be  Pin-prised  not  to  find  me  this  morning, 
but  I  am  tired  of  this  kind  of  life,  and  am  going  away.  I  thank  you 
for  all  you  have  done  for  me,  and  hope  some  day  to  see  you  again 
and  to  thank  you  myself.  Say  goodbye  to  all,  for  me,  your 
slavey,  BRAC."  Well,  if  that  isn't  spunk,  then  I'm  a  fool  ! 

SAGE  lays  the  letter   beside  C. 

C.  The  ungrateful  little  thing,  to  leave  me  in  this  way  !  I  dare 
say  she  has  run  away  with  some  young  chap. 

Saae.  Well,  my  dear,  it's  no  use  crying  or  scolding,  for  either 
one  wont  bring  her  back  ;  if  you  want  to  find  her,  the  best  way  is  tc 
tell  the  people  and  have  her  searched  for. 

Enter  BOB  and  JOHN,  R. 

r  I'm  not  going  searching  for  her  ;  all  there  is,  if  she  didn't 
like'mv  ways  and  has  runned  away,  let  h«r$  like  as  not  she'll  bring 
up  in  the  poor  house,  where  I  took  her  from.  I'm  sure  if  she's  lost, 
it's  not  my  fault. 

Bob.    Who's  lost? 

Sage.     Why,  that  poor  little  Brae  has  taken  it  into  her  head  to  run 


Are  von  sure?     (turns  to  C.)     Which  way  did  she  go?> 

C  You  don't  suppose  I  know,  do  you?  I  don't  set  up  all  night 
and*  watch  my  maid,  to  see  that  she  don't  run  away. 

Bob      But  didn't  she  leave  any  word—  or  anything? 

C.    *Yes,  there's  the  letter!  (pushing  it  towards  hm 

Bob.    Good  heavens  —  a  letter  ! 

C  Yes  a  letter  and  you  are  welcome  to  all  the  information  tnat 
yon'can  <ret  from  it;  I  suppose  that  you'll  try  to  find  her? 

Bob      I  shall  do  all  that  I  can.  (Bos  takes  the  letter 

Saae.  That's  right,  young  man,  and  if  I  was  not  oblige;!  to  re 
turn  to  the  city  this  morning,  I'd  help  you  in  your  search,  but  when 
von  find  her  let  me  know,  and  we'll  see  what  can  be  done  for  her. 
I  think  some  folks  might  be  more  interested  I  •oiSSUm  1 

T  Oh  he's  o-oin"  asvay  without  saying  anything.  Oh,  Ransom  ! 

(exit  after  SAGE 

John.     Mr.  Wilder,  let  me  offer  you  my  assistance  in    finding   the 

Y°B^b.  aEx'cuse  me,  but  I  prefer  to  act  alone  in  this  matter. 

John.     As  you  please;  but  will  you  allow  me   to  read   that  letter? 

Bob.  Why,  certainly  !  (  gives  letter  which  JOHN  reads  ;  BOB  walk* 
nde  and  stands  alone  at  L.  ;  cwfcfe)  And  tin  .  i  »  the  letter  Br.c  would 
aot  let  me  road  vcstenlj.y.  Perhaps  if  I  had  not  been  such  a  too 
annd'so  hasty,  she  might  have  told  me  where  she  was  ;_;oing;  but  I 
shall  find  her! 


BRA  0  ;  THE  POOR  HO  USE  GIRL.  S6 

John.  Thank  you,  sir!  and  let  me  say  that  if  you  are  the  first  to 
to  discover  her  whereabouts — for  I  am  going  to  do  what  I  can  to 
discover  her — if  you  will  accept  of  a  favor,  1  can  place  her  in  a  very 
fine  family. 

Bob.  Very  kind,  I  a.»i  sure  !  but  once  she  is  found,  I  also  know  of 
a  home  she  can  have  without  any  trouble.  (JOHN  bows  and  exit  L.) 
How  I  dislike  that  man !  and  still  he  appears  to  be  a  gentleman, 
and  only  for  that  little  quarrel  the  other  day,  we  might  have  been 
friends.  Bat  now  to  find  Brae  I  (exit  L. 

Enter  C.  from  R. 

C.  Oh,  the  cruelty  of  these  men  !  I  never  thought  that  Ransom 
could  get  provoked  at  his  little  pussy  willsy  woolsy.  Oh,  I  shall 
prespire;  I  know  I  shall  I  (takes  seat  and  covers  face  with  hands 

Enter   DOKCAS  from  L. 

Dorcas.  Why,  Clarissa,  what  on  earths  a  troubling  you  ?  I  heard 
down  town  as  how  Brae  had  gone. 

C.  Yes,  she  run  away  after  I'd  been  to  all  the  expense  of  fixin' 
her  up  so  as  she'd  look  kinder  decent,  for  my  maid. 

Dorcas.  Well,  I  wouldn't  worry  myself  about  it,  though  folks  do 
say  as  how  you  was  too  hard  on  the  girl;  but  I  tell  'em  that  she  was 
a  regular  scamp  and  couldn't  be  kept  nowhere. 

C.  Thank  you,  Dorcas,  you  always  did  know  me  better  than 
an}Tbody  else.  She  was  an  awful  trial  to  me. 

Dorcas.  But  how  is  your  case  coming  out?  It  must  be  a  costing 
you  a  pile  of  money  by  this  time? 

C.  Yes,  it's  gettin'  pretty  expensive,  but  then  it's  nothin'  to  the 
prize. 

Dorcas.  No,  I  suppose  not!  and  have  you  decided  on  the  day 
yet? 

C.  No,  he  don't  seem  to  come  to  the  point,  my  dear;  and  some 
how  I  can't  seem  to  get  him  up  to  it.  lie  shies  every  time.  How  ia 
it  done,  Dorcas?  You  ought  to  know,  betn'  older. 

Dorcas,  (aside}  Older,  ahem  I  (aloud)  Well,  mine  didn't  need 
any  managing,  but  you  inignt  say  say  something  of  goiu'  to  Europe. 
You  are  thinking  of  that,  you  know. 

C.  On  a  bridal  tower  1  Oh,  I  thank  you  so  much,  Dorcas,  and 
now  you  must  come  into  the  parlor  and  have  a  cup  of  tea  while  f 
show  you  dear  Ransom's  picture.  (exiL  both  to  house 

Enter  JOHN  from  L.      p^^^^JLAA 

John.  And  so  she's  found  at  last !  Here  I've  been  wiring  the 
country  and  had  two  detectives  at  work  for  the  last  two  weeks,  and 
all  to  no  purpose,  for  it .  now  turns  out  that  she  was  murdered  by 
some  one  and  left  in  the  woods.  It  was  almost  impossible  to  recog 
nize  her,  and  the  chain  was  gone,  yet  I  am  convinced  that  she  will 
not  trouble  again,  and  I  am  much  obliged  to  the  man  who  un 
knowingly  has  placed  this  fortune  in  my  hands.  Now,  if  Anna  is 
all  prepared,  we  will  settle  this  business  at  the  next  session  of  the 
court  and  then  I'll  say  farewell  to  this  country,  for  I  don't  like  the 
way  things  went  about  thnt  stranger  that  promised  to  be  Brae's 
father;  his  body  was  never  found  anJ  there  was  never  a  report  of 


*6  BEAC ;  THE  POOS  HOUSE  GIRL. 

any  kind  about  the  affair — it  looks  ugly,  for  whoever  he  was  he 
called  my  name  just  as  I  struck  him.  I  must  be  quick  about  this 
and  be  off  before  it  is  too  late.  (exit  n. 

Enter  BOB,  L. 

Bob.  A  letter  for  me  and  in  a  strange  hand  writing!  I  wonder 
who  its  from.  What,  Brae!  thank  heaven,  she's  alive! — "Dear 
Bob:  I  must  write  you  and  let  you  know  that  I'm  alive  and  well. 
Mr.  Karl  came  after  me  that  night  and  took  me  away  and  placed  me 
in  this  school,  and  I  have  such  a  nice  time  and  all  the  money  and 
dresses  and  everything  that  I  want.  The  girls  and  teachers  are  all 
very  kind,  and  I'm  studying  real  hard  and  trying  to  learn  so  that 
you  won't  be  ashamed  of  me  when  we  meet  again.  Mr.  Karl  has 
taken  me  in  charge,  and  he  says  that  I  may  write  to  you  if  you 
won't  tell  any  one  that  you  know  where  I  "am,  for  he  don't  want 
anyone  but  you  to  know  on  any  account;  and  now,  good  bye, 

Yours  as  ever,  BRAG. 

P.  S.    Write  soon    and    address,      BRACELL  SOUTHEN, 
Bijou  College.  BROWNVILLE,  New  Jersey." 

Bjb.  Found  at  last!  I  knew  that  was  not  her,  although  every 
body  believed  it  to  be  her  body.  Well,  now  that  I  know  she  is  safe 
and  in  such  excellent  hands,  I'll  go  back  to  sclicnl  myself,  for  I  am 
now  two  weeks  late-  It's  rather  hard  to  say  good  bye  to  all  of  th^se 
familiar  scenes,  but  the  best  of  friends  have  to  part.  (exit  L. 

End  of  Act  Second. 

CURTAIN. 


ACT   III. 

SCENE — Reception  room  of  Avoca  Farm,  nicely  furnished,  with  en 
trance  at  back.  SAGE  discovered  seated  in  chair,  looking  at  hit 
watch. 

Sage.  Eight  o'clock  !  and  in  half  an  hour  I  shall  be  through  with 
this  case,  which  has  now  been  at  a  stand  still  for  one  and  a  half 
years.  I  sent  them  all  word  that  I  would  be  ready  to  receive  them 
at  half  past  eight.  It  is  very  lucky  for  me  that  I  never  made  any 
remark  that  Clarissa  could  make  anything  of;  I  have  managed  to 
keep  within  bounds  all  the  time,  although  I  did  think  that  she  would 
get  me  sometimes  in  spite  of  myself. 

Enter  CLARISSA,  R. 

C.     I  was  so  anxious  I  could  not  stay  away. 

Sage.  I'm  afraid  that  you've  gained  nothing  by  coming  so  soon. 
The  other  party  will  not  be  here  until  half  past  eight.  I  mentioned 
the  half  hour,  I  believe? 

C.  You  did,  but  I  had  not  seen  you  for  so  long,  and  I  did  so  long 
to  hear  your  voice  once  more. 

Sage.    Yes,  1  know  I  but  it  is  time  they  were  here. 

(looks  at  watch 

C.    Who  were  here? 


BRAC;  THE  POOR  HOUSE  GIRL.  *7 

Sage.  Why,  the  other  claimaintl  An  enterprising  young  fellow 
has  been  at  work,  while  I  have  been  wasting  my  time  on  the  wrong 

C. '  Good  gracious !  what  do  you  mean  ?  and  aint  I — aint  you 
the— 

Sage.  No,  you  aint  and  I  aint  either,  if  you  choose  to  put  it  that 
way.'  The  party  has  proofs  that  are  all  right. 

C.     Oh,  my  sensibilities !     I  shall,  faint !  (looks  at  SAGE 

Sage.     You  had  better  find  an  easy  place  to  fall  on  before  you  try. 

C.    How  cruelly  unkind  you  have  grown.     But  who  is  the — 

Sage.     Ah,  here  they  are  now  t 

Enter  JOHN  and  ANNA,  R. 

C.    Sakcsalivel  if  it  aint  Mr.  Perkins  and  that  air  high ferluten 

gal! 

SAGE  and  JOHN  bow— C.  courtesies  to  JOHN.    JOHN  introduces  ANNA. 

John.     Allow  me  to  introduce  Miss  Southen. 

C.    Miss  Southen? 

John.  Yes,  this  young  lady  is  the  daughter  of  Luke  Southen. 
He  was  lawfully  married  to  a  poor  girl  years  before  he  left  for  In  lia' 
They  became  separated,  and  while  the  father  was  growing  rich,  the 
mother  died  in  the  poorhouse,  and  left  this  child,  who  was  adopted 
by  some  kind  people  in  Brewster,  and  given  a  home  and  education. 
I 'have  already  shown  Mr.  Sage  all  the  papers  and  other  proofs,  so 
that  there  is  no  necessity  of  my  going  into  detail.  Believe  rne, 
madam,  I  am  very  sorry  to  have  to  be  the  instrument  of  taking  this 
-fortune  from  you,  but  my  duty  to  my  departed  friend,  and  his  dying 
request,  are  sacred,  and  I  felt  obliged  to  do  all  in  my  power  to  dis- 
covor  poor  Luke's  daughter. 

C.  I  don't  believe  it!  Luke  was  never  married.  Oh,  Ransom, 
say  that  he  is  wrong,  that  I  am  still  the— 

Sage.  All  that  he  says  is  only  too  true,  madam.  I  have  examined 
everything,  and  there  is  no  use  in  my  disputing  his  proofs. 

C.  And  Where's  my  good  three  thousand  dollars  gone?  Oh,  I'm 
a  ruined  woman  I  I  shall  end  in  the  poorhouse  myself  1 

ANNA  advances  toward  CLARISSA. 

Anna.  Madam,  when  I  get  possession  of  my  rights,  I  will  return 
you  all  the  money  you  have  lost.  You  will  at  least  accept  this 
email  present  from  me? 

Enter  KARL  unseen,  L. 

C.  No,  I  won't!  I  don't  want  your  money.  You  are  both  big 
cheats  and  swindlers,  I  believe. 

Karl.     And  so  they  are,  madam  !  cheats  of  the  worst  kind  ! 

John.  What !  Who  are  you  that  interferes  with  other  people's 
affairs? 

Anna,     (aside)    -We  are  lost !     Oh,  why  did  I  consent  to  this! 

C.     What  did  you  say?     Ransom,  did  you  hear? 

Sage.  Sir,  to  whom  am  [  indebted  for  this  ungentlemanly  en 
trance  into  my  apartments,  and  interruption  of  my  business  trans 
actions. 


18  BRAC;  THE  POOH  HOUSE  GIRL. 

Karl.  I  will  answer  all  questions  in  due  time.  As  to  your  busi- 
tran suctions,  permit  me  to  say  that  it  is  my  business  and  not  yours, 
which  you  and  this — gentleman — have  been  settling.  And  as  for 
the  intru?ion,  I  believe  that  the  court  room  is  a  public  place,  and  as 
you  saw  fit  to  make  this  one,  I  thought  best  to  attend.  And,  madam, 
I  s:iy  that  these  people  are  swindlers! 

John.     Have  a  care,  sir — ! 

Karl.  I'll  take  all  the  care  of  y.ou  that  you'll  ever  require,  before 
long.  Now  it  is  enough  for  you  to  know  that  I  came  from  India  to 
settle  up  Luke  Soutlien's  properly;  my  name  you  will  learn  later. 

John,  (aside)  Good  heaven.?!  can  it  be?  It  is  the  man  I  attacked 
in  the  thunder  storm.  I'll  get  away  before  he  recognizes  me. 

Sage.  Well,  sir,  will  you  inform  me  what  you  know  of  this 
property. 

Karl.  I  will,  sir!  But  as  it  is  a  long  story,  you  had  hotter  be 
seated,  (all  take  seats;  JOHN  starts  to  leave,  is  stopped  by  KARL,  who 
says)  You,  sir,  may  be  seated  there,  (points  to  a  chair  directly  in 
front  of  him')  and  remain  until  I  finish.  Do  you  hear? 

John.  By  what  right  do  you  command  me?  Sand  aside  and  let 
me  pass,  or — 

Karl.     John  Perkins,  take  that  chair! 

John,     (starts  and  exclaims)     My  God!     It  is  Frank  Karl! 

(sinks  into  choir 

Karl.  You  all  know  that  Luke  Sou  then  left  a  large  fo;  tune. 
Well,  before  he  died,  he  made  a  will  leaving  all  of  his  property  to  a 
wife  and  child  in  this  country.  lie  was  married  to  a  poor  giTl  in  a 
village  not  far  from  here,  though  the  marriage  was  kept  a  secret 
from  his  folks.  Well,  a  daughter  was  born  to  them,  and  then  afier 
a  while  he  left  for  India;  but  before  he  left  he  had  a  silver  chain  and 
locket  made,  of  unique  design,  and  then  fastened  it  on  the  child's 
neck,  he  keeping  the  key  and  his  wife  agreeing  not  to  remove  It 
under  Any  circumstance.  After  he  had  been  in  India  about  a  year 
he  was  taken  prisoner  by  the  natives,  and  held  for  over  two  years; 
on  being  released  he  came  home  with  all  possible  speed,  only  to  find 
that  his  wife  and  child  had  gone  to  some  city,  no  one  knew  where. 
He  then  began  a  search  which  lasted  over  three  years,  without  his 
finding  the' least  trace  of  them;  the  idea  then  struck  him  that  per 
haps  his  wife  had  followed  him  to  India,  and  with  this  thought  he 
visited  that  country  a  second  time,  only  to  be  disappointed  again. 
He  then  gave  up  all  hopes  of  finding  them  yet  wandered  hopelessly 
about  seeking  thorn  in  vain.  It  was  in  this  condition  that  I  found 
him  one  morning,  more  dead  than  alive,  and  after  keeping  him  for  a 
time,  he  told  me  his  story.  From  that  time  until  his  death  we  were 
the  firmest  and  best  of  frien  Is;  Inter  he  became  my  partner,  and  we 
did  a  very  prosperous  business.  He  had  at  last  found  a  clew  to  the 
whereabouts  of  his  wife  and  was  ready  to  start  to  this  country, 
when  he  died.  In  making  his  will  he  made  one  clause  and  that  w  is: 
"That  I,  Frank  Karl,  in  case  I  did  not  succeed  in  finding  his  wif.j 
and  daughter,  should  either  accept  his  fortune  as  a  last  gift  from 
him,  or  that  1  might  dispose  of  it  as  I  thought  best." 

Sage.  And  you  have  not  discovered  this  heir?  Allow  me  to 
introduce  his  second  cousin,  who  I —  (leads  up  CLAIUSSA 

Karl.  Yes,  I  know  all  about  that.  B;it  before  Luke  died  he  g;ivo 
into  my  tru-t  the  key  to  thi«  lo  ket  an  1  al--o  the  proofs  of  his  mar 
riage.  There  was  b:it  one  pcr.-on  who  witnessed  all  this  besides 


BE  A  C;  THE  POOH  HOUSE  GIEL.  99 

myself,  and  that  was  our  overseer,  a  man  whom  we  trusted  implicitly, 
and  to  repay  him  for  his  honesty  we  settled  a  sum  of  money  on  him 
find  gave  him  the  business.  Well,  after  the  funeral,  I  started  lor 
here  with  the  purpose  of  finding  the  heirs;  after  we  were  well  at 
sea  who  should  I  find  on  board  but  this  same  overseer,  this  — 

John.  Spare  me,  Frank,  for  the  sake  of  my  poor  old  mother, 
whom  this  blow  would  kill  1  For  God's  sake  let  me  go  ! 

(throws  himself  at  KARL'S  feet 

Karl.  Get  up,  sir!  Well,  this— man  knew  where  to  look  for 
everything  just  as  well  as  I,  and  one  dark  night  he  stabbed  me  in 
the  back,  and  being  interrupted  before  he  had  time  to  search  me, 
threw  me  overboard,  thinking  that  he  would  get  the  fortune  into  his 
own  hands  and  in  his  search  for  the  daughter 

Anna.  1  cannot  bear  this  any  longer!  Oh,  sir,  I  am  not  the 
daughter  of  Mr.  Southen.  I  am  only  a  tool  of  that  wretch.  Ibis 
chain  he  had  made  that  I  might  resemble  the  child  as  much  as 
possible;  and  now  I  hope  you  will  find  the  true  party,  although  he 
declares  she  is  dead. 

Karl.    But  she  still  lives. 

John.    That's  a  lie !     I  saw  her  bur 

Karl.    Silence,  sir ! 

Anna.  And  now  that  I  have  done  all  that  I  can,  I  will  ask  you 
to  forgive  and  excuse  one  in  whose  company  I  know  you  are 
ashamed  to  be.  (starts  to  go  but  is  stopped  by  KARL 

Karl.  May  God  bless  you  for  this  act;  it  makes  me  your  frien  1, 
and  I  will  see  that  no  harm  comes  10  you  from  him.  Now,  John 
Perkins,  for  the  sake  of  your  poor  mother,  I  am  going  to  let  you  go, 
but  only  on  two  conditions,  and  they  are:  First,  that  you  leave  this 
town  at  once,  and  this  country  before  twenty-four  hours;  for  if  you 
are  in  America  to-morrow  at  six  o'clock,  I'll  have  you  arrested  for 
attempted  murder.  The  second  is  that  you  give  me  two  checks  for 
fifty  thousand  dollars  each,  one  for  this  young  lady  and  the  other 
lor  your  poor  old  mother,  who  has  to  support  herself. 

John.    But  that— that  will  beggar 

Karl.    Enough  of  that !  all  you  have  to  do  is  accept  or  I'll  ring ! 

(starts  toward  the  bell  cord 

John.     No,  no!     I'll  sign! 

Karl.  Oblige  me,  Mr.  Sage,  by  seeing  that  those  checks  are  made 
out  in  a  correct  manner. 

JOHN  makes  out  checks  and   SAGE  hands  them  to  KARL. 

Karl.  That  is  all  right  and  now  don't  you  dare  to  stop  the  pay 
ment  of  these  for  if  you  do  I'll  hunt  you  down  as  I  would  a  reptile. 
Now,  sir,  leave  the  country  and  don't  you  ever  dare  show  your  face 
here  ao-ain,  for  I  shall  put  a  price  on  your  capture.  Now  go ! 

(exit  JOHN,  L. 

Karl.  As  it  is  useless  for  me  to  say  anything  further,  and  as  you 
probably  wish  to  examine  the  papers,  there  they  are. 

Lays  papers  on  table;  SAGE  and  CLARISSA  examine  them.     KARL  turns 
to  ANNA. 

Karl.  Young  woman,  you  have  acted  nobly  and  I  want  you  to 
accept  this  (offers  check)  as  a  part  atonement  for  whatever  wrong 
be  may  have  done. 


SO  BE  AC;  THE  POOE  ROUSE  GIRL. 

Anna.  I  cannot  take  it !  I  do  not  deserve  this  kindness  from  you. 
I  was  as  much  to  blame  as  he. 

Karl.  Hush  !  Let  me  hear  no  more !  You  will  accept  it  then  aa 
a  present  from  me,  as  all  he  has  was  given  him,  for  he  never  saved 
a  cent.  Take  it !  (offers  it  again)  and  may  it  bring  you  the  happi 
ness  your  face  tells  me  you  have  never  had,  and  which  I  am  sure 
you  deserve. 

KARL  puts  check  into  her  hands;  she  takes   his  hand  and  raising   it   to 

her   lips. 

Anna.    This  is  too  much  for  such  as  I !  (weeps  bitterly 

Karl.  There,  there,  don't  cry  any  more!  You  will  find  my  car- 
ria<>-e  at  the  door,  and  it  will  carry  you  wherever  you  wish  to  go. 

(exit  ANNA,  R. 

Sage.  I  find  everything  satisfactory,  with  the  exception  that  I 
should  like  to  see  the  daughter. 

Karl.  Your  wish  shall  be  gratified,  (goes  to  door  and  calls  BRAC) 
Brae !  Come  this  way,  please. 

SAGE  and  CLARISSA  jump  up  and  stand  staring  at   her  in  wonder  when 
she  enters  and  bows  to  them. 

Sage.     What,  Brae  ? 

C.     For  the  land  sakes  !     I  thought  you  was  dead ! 
Brae.    No,  I'm  not!     But  it's  not  Mr.  Karl's  fault,  for  he's  been 
trying  to  kill  me  with  kindness  for  the  past  year,  and  now  he's  given 
it  up  and  promised  to  let  me  do  as  I  like. 

C.  And  so  you  are  the  heiress,  and  I'm  your  aunt  I  Well,  I 
never ! 

Brae.     Heiress  I     I  an  heiress  ? 

Sage.  Yes,  Brae,  you  are  the  only  daughter  of  Luke  Southen 
and  he  left  half  a  million  dollars. 

Brae.    How  funny!     Why,  that's  just  the  same   amount  as  you 
had  left  to  you ! 
C.    No,  it  was  never  left  to  me,  and  all  I've  left  now  is  myself. 

Brae.    What  do  you  mean  ?     Didn't  you  get  any 

C.  Yes,  I  got  the  experience  of  spendin'  all  my  hard  earned 
savin's  and  of  bein'  made  a  fool  of! 

Brae.    Mr.  Karl,  is  what  they  say  true?     Have  I— am  I   to   have 
all  this  money? 
Karl.    Yes,  pet! 

Brae.    And  can  I  do— can  I  us3  some  of  it  now,  just  as  I  please? 
Karl.     Why,  certainly. 

Brae.  Then  I  want  you  to  give  my  guard  enough  so  that  she 
won't  have  to  work  any  more. 

Karl.    You  wish  me  to  place  enough  to  her  credit  so  that  she  will 
be  provided  for  the  rest  of  her  days ;  is  that  it,  Brae  ? 
Brae.    Yes,  sir !  and  you  must  take  it  out  of  my  money. 
C.    You  goin'  to  do  this  for  me,  Brae?     Why,  child,  I  never   did 
anything  for  you  to  deserve  it. 

Brae.  Then  you  will  begin  now  by  accepting  my  present  and  not 
Baying  anything  more  about  it. 

Sage.  You  are  a  remarkable  young  lady,  and  you  deserve  to  be 
happy  for  helping  your  old  friend  in  such  a  magnificent  manner ; 
and  now,  Clarissa,  supposing  we  take  a  walk,  and  leave  them  for  a 

• 


BKAC ;  TEE  POOR  HOUSE  GIRL.  SI 

C.     (aside)     Oh,  he  smiles  on  me  again,  (exit  with  SAGE 

7>/-cc.  The  hook  is  baited  once  mare,  and  she'll  make  a  catch  this 
time,  sure. 

Karl.  Well,  Brae,  now  that  .yon  are  rich  I  suppose  that  I  can 
retire  and  not  act  the  father  over  yon  any  more,  as  you  will  not 
v.'ant  for  anything  now. 

Urac.  Except  a  good  kind  father  to  plague  and  torment.  No, 
sir!  you  can't  go!  You  stole  me  once,  and  now  you've  got  to  keep 
me;  and  if  you  try  to  run  away  I'll— I'll  prosecute  you,  now  you 
soe ! 

Karl.  Ha!  ha!  ha!  If  you  are  going  to  try  that,  I  think  I'll 
stay,  for  1  have  a  mortal  dread  of  the  law. 

Brae.  Then,  kidnapper,  beware  of  my  vengeance!  But,  Mr. 
Karl,  you  never  told  me  how  you  escaped  after  being  thrown  over 
board  that  night. 

Karl.     Didn't  I?     Why,  I  was  sure  I  told  you  everything. 

Brae.    So  you  did,  except  that,  and  that  I  was  rich,  you  old  fraud  I 

Karl.  Hal  ha!  ha!  Well,  I  wanted  to  surprise  you  a  little,  and 
so  kept  it  until  I  was  sure  of  having  it  all  settled. 

Brae.     Well,  I'll  forgive  you  this  time;  but  your  story? 

Karl.  Oh,  it  was  simple  enough;  I  was  picked  up  by  a  man-of- 
war  bound  for  home,  after  floating  upon  a  plank  for  several  hours, 
nnd  was  landed  in  Washington  about  one  week  after  Jack  landed  in 
New  York,  and  followed  him  here.  You  already  know  the  rest. 

Brae.  And  you  have  done  all  of  this  for  my  sake  I  Oh,  Mr.  Karl, 
I  don't  deserve  to  have  such  a  friend. 

Karl.  Come,  come,  you  must  not  talk  to  me  like  that  any  more; 
you  know  that  I  have  no  one  else  to  be  kind  to,  and  so  you  might  let 
me  have  my  own  way  a  little. 

Brae.  And  so  you  shall !  only  forgive  me  this  time  and  I  promise 
that  it  shall  not  occur  again.  Oh,  say  !  did  you  find  out  about — ? 

Karl.  Yes,  the  dog  is  alive  and  so  are  the  chickens,  though  they 
are  two  years  old  now,  and 

Brae.    No,  no  I     I  don't  mean  them.     I — I — mean 

Karl.  Dorcas  Jones?  Why,  yes,  she's  alive  and  doing  a  smart 
business,  and 

Brae.  Oh,  bother  her  business!  I  want  to  know  if  you  heard 
anything  from 

Karl.  From  that  farmer  chap?  Yes,  he's  been  married  for  Some 
time  and  has  one  child  a 

Brae.  I  don't  care  if  they  are  twins !  I  don't  mean  him ;  I  mean 
the  other. 

Karl.    What  other? 

Brae.     Why  I    Mr.— Why! — you  know  who  I  mean. 

Karl.    I  don't  know  how  I  should? 

Brae.    But,  you  do!  you  know  I  mean  Mr.  Wilder. 

Karl.  Oh,  hoi  So  he's  the  one  all  this  fuss  is  about,  is  he?  Well, 
Brae,  he  has  lost  all  of  his  property. 

Brae.     I  don't  care  anything  about  his  property;  I  want  him. 

Karl.    But,  Brae,  he  is  a  very  wild  boy,  I  am  told. 

Enter  BOB,  L.,  and  stands  at  back. 

Brae.    Then  I'll  tame  him  I  so  now ! 

Karl.    Well,  here  he  is,  so  you  had  better  commence  at  once,  or 
(looks  from  one  to  tht  other)    Ha !  ha  1  ha  I  (exit  KARL,  flu 


•• 


S3  BEAC;  THE  POOH  HOUSE  GIRL. 

Br«ie.  Mean  old  thing;  he  knew  he  was  coming !  I  wonder  if  he 
heard  me  ? 

Bob.    Eh— ahem— ah— Brnc,  don't  3-011  remember  me? 
Brae,     (bows  very  haur/h till/)     I  beg  pardon  !     Mr.    Wilder,  I   pre 
sume,     (aside)    There,  that's  style  ! 

Bob.  (aside)  Whew!  what  a  set  back !  (aloud)  Yes,  M!$s  Souttien, 
I  have  the  honor  of  being  that  individual.  Allow  me  to  congratulate 
you  upon  your  return  to  the  scenes  of  your  childhood. 

Brae.  And  allow  me  to  thank  you  for  all  the  favors  and  kind  acts 
you  did  me  in  those  days.  (a*ide]  1  guess  he's  forgotten  them  by 
this  time  by  the  way  he  acts  now  ! 

Bob.     Miss  Southen,  owing  to  some  changes  that  have  happened— 
Brae,     (aside)     So  he's  got  a  girl,  .too,  has  he  ? 

Bob.    To  me  in  this  last  year,  I  feel  obliged  to— I— I  feel  it 

Brae,     (aside)     I  wonder  if  it  hurts  him  much  1 

Bob.    My  duty  to— to  inform  you 

Brae.    Oh,  I  know  all  about  them  ! 
Bob.    You  have  heard  of  them,  then? 
Brae.    No,  nor  they  of  me,  either ! 

Bob.     I  don't  see  how  they  could,  for  my  financial 

Brae.  Oh,  bother!  all  you  men  think  of  is  money.  There's  dear 
old  Mr.  Karl  always  wondering  what  he'll  do  with  his. 

Bob.  Why  did  Mr.  Karl  go  away  without  giving  me  a  chance  to 
speak  to  him  ? 

Brae.    Because  he  knew  that  he  wasn't  wanted !     (aside)     There ! 
Bob.    Brae,  do  you  mean  it? 

Brae.    Bob,  can  you  doubt  it?  (they  embrace 

Bob.  I  don't  know  whether  to  believe  it  or  not;  and,  Brae,  you 
have  not  changed  any?  You  are  still  my  Brae?  (kisses  her 

Brae.     Oh,  Bob!     Haven't  you  grown  afraid  of  powder  yet? 
Bob.    No,  nor  never  will  \\hile  I  have  you  for  my   powder  bearer. 

(they  sit 

Brae.  Don't  you  go' to  making  fun  of.  me;  if  you  do  you'll  be 
sorry. 

Bob.  I  heard  you  say  when  1  came  i'.i,  that  you  would  tame  me, 
so  I  suppose  the  sooner  I  give  in  (enter  KARL,R.)  the  tamer  you  will 
make  me. 

Karl,  (aside)  I  should  say  that  she  had  you  pretty  well  tamed 
now.  (aloud)  Ahem  !  (Bos  and  BIIAC  both  jump  up 

Brae.     Why  !  Mr.  Karl ! 
Bob.     Glad"  to  see  you  back  again,  Mr.  Karl. 

(advances  and  shakes  hands 

Karl.  Thank  you,  B>b!  .you  once  saved  my  life,  an  1  I  nevei  had 
a  chance  to  thank  you  for  your  noble  conduct;  and  now  all  that  I 
can  say  is,  that  if  there  is  ever  anything  that  I  can  do  f jr  you,  in 
auy  way,  don't  fail  to  ask  me. 

Bob.    Mr.  Karl,  the  service  that  I  rendered  you  was  no  more  than 
any  one  else  would  have  done,  nnd   I   would   prefer   that   it  \v:is  not 
mentioned  again.     But,  Mr.  Karl,  1  have  a  great  favor  to  a?k  of  you. 
Karl.    Well,  what  is  it  ? 

Bob.  I  want  you  to  give  me  Brae.  I  love  her  and  1  know  that 
she  returns  my  affection.  1  do  not  ask  for  her  now,  for  as  you  know 
I  am  poor  and  have  nothing  but  my  hands  to  help  me  through  life, 
but  with  your  promise  and "her 'a  and  the  best  wishes  or  you  both  I 
lhall  have  twice  the  strength  and  courage  to  fight  and  win  life'i 


BRAC;  TIIE  POOR  HOUSE  GIBL.  S3 

Brae,  (goes  to  KARL  and  sans,  aside)  Say  "yes;"  I've  got  money 
enough  for  both. 

Karl.    Well,  Brae !     What  do  you  say  to  this? 

Brae.  I— I  like  Bob  and— and— I  don't  want  to  let  him  go  away 
from  me,  and  you  know  I  don't! 

Karl.  Whew!  Well,  sir !  you  can  have  her,  but  let  me  tell  you 
that  she  is  penniless,  and  after  the  wedding  I  will  throw  her  over, 
as  I  can't  afford  to  be  hanging  around  here  any  longer. 

Bob.  Sir,  if  she  is  as  you  say,  and  stands  on  an  equal  footing  with 
me,  I  will  marry  her  at  once,  for  it  was  only  her  money  that  made 
me  want  to  wait. 

Brae.     1  arn  not  pen (KARL  stops  her 

Karl.  If  that  is  your  reason,  you  need  not  hesitate  any  longer, 
for  I  assure  you  that  she  has  no  more  property  than  you. 

Bob.    Oh,  Brae! 

Brae.    Oh,  Bob !  (they  embrace 

Karl.    There,  that  makes  me  young  again. 

Enter  SAGE  and  CLARISSA,  L. 

Sage.     Mr.  Karl,  I  am  about  to  make  Miss  Clarissa  my  wife. 

Brae.     He's  landed  at  last. 

Sage.  And  as  we  have  decided  to  go  and  have  it  done  quietly  we 
would  be  greatly  honored  if  you  would  all  go  over  to  the  chapel 
with  us. 

Karl.  Of  course  we  will !  but  I  insist  on  having  a  double  wed 
ding  so  yon  two  young  folks  hurry  up  and  get  ready.  (KARL  takes 
BRAG  aside  and  soys)  Now  not  a  word  about  your  property  until 
after  you  are  married,  and  then  you  may  tell  him  and  lay  the  blame 
all  on  me;  and  as  I  want  a  private  secretary,  I. will  take  Bob. 

Brae.    Oh,  you  dear  old  humbug!  (gives  him  a  hug  and  kiss 

Sage.     Are  we  all  ready  ? 

C.     I  am,  dear  Ransom. 

Bob.    All  ready. 

Brae.     And  waiting. 

Karl.  Then  we  will  go  at  once  to  the  chapel  and  have  tlie  cere 
mony  performed,  and  make  these  couples  the  happiest  in  the  land. 

(prepare  to  exit  as  the 

CURTAIN     FALLS. 


DUTCH  JAKE ;  or,  True  Blue . 

A  Drama  in  S  Acts.  JW  4  male  ami  3  iViu;iie  characters. 

SYNOPSIS. 

ACT  I.  Home  of  Major  Fay  in  Virginia— Iron  mines— Mrs.  Fay 
and  the  Major  do  not  agree — Maude  Allen,  the  waif,  finds  a  home — 
Harry  Thurle  and  Ella  Fay— The  proposal— Henry  Crinley,  agent 
for  mining  company — Jake  Schneider  "a  fresh  arrival." — The  sale. 
Five  thousand  dollars  missing — Jake  accused— "I  tinks  I  peeii  der 
cock  of  der  valk!" 

ACT  II.  Jake  and  Ella— Harry  Thurle  missing— Jake,  "I  vill 
finds  him  pooty  quick  now !"— Crinley  and  Ella— Jake  protects 
Ella— The  goose  pond— Maude  tells  Major  Fay  of  Crinley's  treach 
ery—Plan  to  abduct  Ella,  frustrated  by  Maude— Jake  Schneider's 
dream  and  rescue  of  Harry — Ella  leaves  home — Crinley  discovers 
Maude,  his  wife— Shows  his  hand— Jake  appears  and  prevents 
murder— "I  peen  not  afraid  of  dot  cowyard  man!"— Major  Fay  and 
Crinley— The  insult— Kettle  of  hot  water— Jake  on  deck. 

ACT  III.  Crinley  and  Maior  Fay— The  vigilance  committee- 
Harry  and  the  pocker-book— Maude  Allen's  story — Storm — A  dark 
night's  work— An  attempt  to  murder  Major  Fay— Crinley  shoots 
and  wounds  Harry — Jake  shoots  Crinley— His  dying  confession — 
Maude  finds  a  brother  in  Harry— Dutch  Jake,  and  happy  ending. 

PENN  HAPGOODT 

A  Drama  in  3  Acts,  for  1O  male  and  3  female  characters. 

SYNOPSIS. 

ACT  I.  Scene  1st.— School-house— Penn  and  Carl— The  threat- 
Foot-race  between  Carl,  Dan  and  Jim— Penn's  defense— l 'Hang 
him.  I  hang  him  I"— Carl  to  the  rescue— Tar  and  feathers.  Scene 


geese!" — Gus  Bythewood,  his  Southern  sentiments — Salina— "I  am 
not  a  rebel! "—Mrs.  Sprow),  the  "lone  widder,"  interviews  Penn. 
Mr.  Villars  threatened— Virginia  intercedes—  "We'll  give  the 
Yankee  three  days  to  leave  the  country."— Carl  and  Dan— "They 
mean  to  kill  Penn"— Escape  of  Penn. 

ACT  II.  Scene  1st.— Penn  about  to  be  hung— "Death,  rather 
than  a  rebel!" — Carl  saves  Penn,  by  enlisting — Arrest  of  Mr.  Vil 
lars  and  Stackridge— Virginia  discovers  Bythewood's  treachery. 
Scene  2nd.— Prisoners  in  the  guard-house— The  secret  passage— Carl 
on  guard — Escape  of  prisoners  with  Carl.  Scene  3d. — Home  of  the 
Villars — Toby's  opinion — Virginia  missing — Lysander  and  Salina — 
"Terrible  news"— Toby  as  a  bootjack— "Toby  shall  not  be  whipped!" 
"Fire!  fire!" 

ACT  III.  Scene  1st.— Lysander  and  Silas— A  plan  to  compel 
Mrs.  Stackridge  to  reveal  the  cave  where  her  husband  is— Scene  2nd. 
Mrs.  Sprowl,  the  "lone  widder"  visits  Mrs.  Stackridge's  home^ 
arrival  of  Dim  and  Jim,  who  mistake  her  for  Mrs.  Stackridge— the 
whipping— Lysander  arrives— "Scoundrels,  you  have  whipped  my 
mother!"  Scene  3d.— Carl  and  Toby  prisoners—  Carl  saves  Toby  a 
whipping— Carl  leads  the  way  to  the  cave.  Scene  Wi. — Cave — 
Penn  and  Virginia— Carl  and  Toby,  with  Lysander  a  prisoner— Es 
cape  of  Lysander,  and  attempt  to  capture  party  at  cave— Repulse 
and  victory — Death  of  Bythewood  and  Lysander — Passport  to  the 
North. 


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PELEG 


Around  the  Horn. 


A.  Farce-Comedy  in  4  acts.     4  male,  2   female  character!. 

An  ocean  trip  from  San  Francisco  to  New  York 

causes  an  immense  amount  of  fun. 


COST  UXES— MODERN. 


TIME  OF  PLAYING— TWO  HOURS. 


SYNOPSIS. 

ACT  L~.-?«ne  1st.  Cabin  of  the  ocean  steamer  Mary  Jane— P^rne-or?  coming  or 
board— Peter  and  Peleg  meet— Isabel  and  Captain— Peleg  and  his  Billow— a  patent  pin 
cushion—Isabel's  trouble— '"Let's  be  gay  and  happy  still"— Peter  gives  his  first  ex 
perience  on  board  of  a  ship—  I  never  vas  so  sick  in  mine  life"— Kate,  Isabel  and 
the  Captain— Pel  eg  and  Kate— Peleg  kisses  the  cook— how  she  accepted  his  advances 
— "Mine  Got  in  Himmel,  I  finds  me  somedings  in  mino  room"— Hanibal.  the  darkej 
— a  general  ruption — "Hi  golly!  see  'em." 

ACT  II.— Scene  1st,  Isabel  and  the  Captain— Pel  eg  afraid  ha  is  in  the  way— it 
reminds  him  or  the  time  he  went  sparking  Sail— Kate  and  Peleg — Ilanibnl  comes  in — 
disgust  of  Peleg— '"dere  nefer  was  a  posey  flower  miroudt  stickers"-Peleg  and  Peter  aea 
rick— Hanibal  interrupts  love  scene  between  Peleg  and  Kate. 

ACT  III.— Scene  1st.  Hanibal  and  Peter— "Oh!  father,  you  signed  my  death  war 
rant  when  you  signed  your  will" — Peter  relate?  his  courting  experience — Peleg  in  love — 
Peter's  ad  vice  to  the  Captain — Peleg  jealous  of  Peter. 

ACT  IV.— Isabel  tells  the  Captain  the  conditions  of  her  father's  will— The  Cap 
tain's  declaration—  I  must  obey  my  father!"— The  quarrel  between  Peter  and  Peleg 
in  which  Hanibal  appears—  'Glory  mit  der  stars  und  stripes  and  the  American 
eagle^-and  de  cullud  population"-Kate  and  the  Captain— Kate  tells  a  secret— Captain's 
despair— Kate  endeavors  to  make  Peleg  propose,  in  which  she  succeeds  as  Hanibal  ap 
pears—  Peter's  opinion  of  muddcr-by-laws— Isab  'lie  tells  the  Captain  she  is  to  marry 
Peter  Polstine— Peter—  "Dot  vas  me"— the  despair  of  Isabella  when  she  discovers  who 
Peter  is— Peter  refuses  to  many  Isabel  le,  I  or  my  wife's  name  will  be  Katrina— mine 
little  Shermany  gal— Isabelle  accepts  the  Captain— Kate  and  Feleg— matrimonv— • 
double  wedding  when  the  Mary  Jane  reaches  port.  PRICE  25  CENTS. 


JUST  PUBLISHED! 

A  SPARKLING  COMEDY. 
Adapted  from  the  French  for  M'lle 
Marie  Aiinoe,  by  Newton 
Chisnell,  an  actor  and 
author  well  known 
in  tlie  dramatic 
profession. 


OEDEE  A  COPY. 
It  has  the  original  cast 
of  characters  as  produced 
for    the    first  time   on  any 
stage,  at  San  Francisco,  Cal.,  un 
der  Mr.  Chisnell's  personal  management. 

OEDEE  AND  EEAD  A  COPY—ONLY  15c. 
Time  of  Representation— 2  hours. 


SYNOPSIS. 


ACT  I.— A  French  cafe — "Cigars,  beer,  ham  sandwiches !"— The 
man  with  the  toothache— Mis.  Johnson,  who  has  "smelled  a  mouse," 
in  search  of  her  husband,  who  finds  it  difficult  to  love  only  one 
woman — Adonis  Montague,  the  14th  street  masher — Mr.  Johnson 
flirts  with  the  veiled  lady— Lifts  the  veil,  "my  wife !"— The  agree 
ment,  "a  tooth  for  a  tooth,  an  eye  for  an  eye."  "If  I  catch  you, 
look  out!"— Mr.  Johnson  waiting  for  Kvelena,  is  discovered  by  Mrs. 
Johnson — "Caught !" — "Remember  the  agreement  I" — Mr.  Johnson's 
horror  of  what  his  wife  may  do,  as  she  is  a  French  woman — The 
assistance  of  Montague,  etc. 

ACT  II.— Home  of  Mr.  Johnson — Return  of  Mrs.  Johnson,  a  des 
perate  woman — Mr.  Johnson's  arrival  with  peace  offerings — "Noth 
ing  but  a  full  confession."— His  confession — "She  was  only  a 
pock-marked  music  scholar,"  and  swears  they  only  got  as  far  as  "do, 
re,  me,  fa,  sol,  la,  si,  dp,  do,  si,  la,  sol,  fa,  me,  re,  do." — A  cyclone 
in  the  bedroom — Adonis  Montague  arouses  Mr.  Johnson's  jealousy — 
Medical  students  arrive— "Mr.  Johnson !"— "Scoot,  brother,  scoot!" 
Mr.  Johnson  locka  his  wife  in  the  house,  not  aware  of  the  students 
being  hid  in  the  rooms,  and  departs  for  the  ball,  as  he  leads  the 
orchestra — Mrs.  Johnson  and  students  escape  through  window  and 
start  for  the  ball. 

ACT  III.— Dr.  Boliver's  ball— A  mistake  of  Flip's,  the  usher. 
Arrival  of  Mrs.  Don't-bother-me,  New  York  Clipper  and  the  Water- 
mellon  brothers — The  dance — Mr.  Johnson  recognizes  Mrs.  Don't- 
bother-me  as  his  wife— "No  more  music  unless  she  stops  dancing!" 
She  does  not  know  that  "shabby  fiddler" — "Put  him  out,  he  is 
drunk!" — Out  he  gees — Return  of  Mr.  Johnson  disguised  as  a 
waiter— The  threat — Mrs.  Johnson  angry  and  decides  to  run  away — 
Mr.  Johnson  relates  a  funny  story  of  a  repentant  lobster— He  at 
tempts  suicide — He  is  forgiven — Advice  of  a  repentant  lobster. 

Ames'  Publishing  Co., 

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Hunted 


A  Drama  in  4  Acts  for  8  male  and  2  female  characters, 
by  Geo.  B.  Chase.     Costumes  modern,  characters  excel 
lent  ;  and  amateurs  can  easily  produce  it 
SYNOPSIS. 

ACT  I.  Scene  1st  —  Home  of  Judge  Dean  —  Mrs.  Warrea  meeti  her  son, 
Will  Warren,  (alias  Frank  Hayes)  whom  she  ha§  not  seen  for  years—  Nora 
and  her  boy  lover  —  Interview  between  Ralph  Monksly  and  Frank  —  A  plan 
to  get  rid  of  Mrs.  Warren—  The  "shadow"—  Nora  and  Frank—  The  "ghost." 
Caesar  Orangeblosaom  —  Lost  papers—  Felix  Bolton,  the  detective,  on  the 
trail.  Scene  2nd.  —  Caesar  visits  the  offica  of  Ralph  Monksly  —  The  drugged 
wine—  "Caught  in  his  own  trap"—  The  quarrel—  Dr.  Radoliff—  The  bargain 
closed. 

ACT  II.  Scene  1st  —  Judge  Dean  and  the  dectectir*  Bolton  —  Frank's 
villainy  exposed  to  the  Judge.  Scene  Znd—The  lunatic  asylum—  An  answer 
to  the  advertisement—  "H-a-n-k  Hank  F-i-n-n  Finn  —  Hank  Finn  —  Hank 
and  th»  dog  —  Mrs.  Warren,  an  inmate  of  the  asylum  —  The  brutal  doctor  — 
Rescue  of  Mrs.  Warren  by  Hank.  • 

ACT  III.  Scene  1st  —  The  proposal  —  Judge  Dean's  request  of  Nora  —  Nora 
refuses  Frank  —  His  anger  and  threat  —  Legal  papers  —  An  English  fortune  — 
Mrs.  Warren's  decision  —  Abduction  of  Nora  —  The  detective  to  the  rescue. 
Scene  £ncZ—  Nora  in  the  asylum  —  Escape  of  Nora  —  Death  of  Dr.  Radcliff  — 
Papers  found. 

ACT  IV.  Scene  1st  —  Barney  O'Toole  in  possession  —  He  discovers  a  plan 
of  robbery  —  The  detective  as  a  Dutch  peddler  —  Frank  and  Ralph  recognize 
him,  cnpture  and  confine  him  in  trunk  —  Barney  releases  him  —  The  robbery 
—  Death  of  Ralph  —  "1  have  kept  my  oathl"  —  Scene  2nd  —  Frank's  rillainy 
exposed  —  Barney,  the  rightful  heir  and  son  —  Shadowed  —  The  criminals  to 
justice  —  Hnppy  ending. 

TwoAuntEmilys;or,Quits. 

A  Farce  in  1  Act,  by  Martie  E.  Tibbets,  for  8  female 

characters.     This  is  an  excellent  little  farce,  consisting  of 

light  comedy,  easy  acting,  racy  dialogue  and  a  good  moral. 

SYNOPSIS. 

Quarrel  between  Dinah  and  Biddy.  Aunt  Emily,  whose  money  the 
girls  are  trying  to  get.  Mrs.  Morton  and  the  telegram.  Dismay  of  Helen 
and  Grace.  Dinah  lays  down  the  law.  Onions  and  cayenne  pepper. 
Arrival  of  Belle.  Morton  and  her  teacher,  who  is  the  rich  Aunt  Emily. 
Belle's  joke  on  Aunt  Emily.  The  long  unheard  of  sister  found.  Belle's 
joke  on  the  girls  discovered.  The  poor  Aunt  Emily  secures  a  homt. 
Bjilt  fets  even  and  calls  it  "Quits." 


THE    COMMERCIAL 

DRUMMER, 


A  Drama  in  3  Acts,  by  Thorn  Melross,  for  6  male  ahd 
2  female  characters.  This  piece  is  immense.  It  is  printed 
from  the  author's  original  manuscript,  and  has  been  pro 
duced  with  great  success  by  the  American  Theatre  Co. 

SYNOPSIS. 

ACT  I.  Home  of  the  late  Richard  Marlow.  interview  between 
Frank  Ross  and  Lawyer  Dudley.  The  pious  deacon  and  Verda 
JVliller.  Heading  the  will.  Joe's  do^  collar.  Richard  Marlow,  the 
false  heir.  The  child  of  the  Dark  Continent  in  trouble.  Three 
villains.  "Ten  thousand  to  silence  my  tongue!"  Zadie,  the  de 
serted  wife  of  John  Dudley.  An  attempted  murder,  Joe's  little 
'•barker"  interferes.  Deacon  and  Joe.  Frank  and  Verda;  his 
resolve  to  become  a  "Commercial  Drummer."  Zadie  giv*es  Verda  a 
home.  Mr.  Dudley's  proposal  to  Verda,  and  the  misunderstanding. 
Murder  of  Deacon  Foote,  and  Frank  accused.  The  struggle,  "life 
or  death !" 

ACTIE.  Zadie,  Verda,  *n3  th«  tramp.  "Painted  benches." 
"My  kingdom  for  some  Eoupl"  Booth  and  Zadie.  Attempted 
murder  of  Zadie;  Ashtor,  the  tramp  interferes,  anu  makes  Dudley 
hand  o^er  a  "William."  Booth  and  the  Indian.  Too  much  beer. 
The  stolen  will.  Joe  in  the  barrel.  Target  shooting.  Verda's 
refusal  to  marry  Dudley.  Abduction  of  Verda,  and  Joe  knocked 
down. 

ACT  ITT.  A»htor  and  Booth.  Corn  plasters;  "There's  millions 
in  them!"  Olie,  the  Swede.  Zadie,  tbe  Census  taker.  Two 
"bummers!"  Rescue  of  Verda  by  Zadie.  Frank  discovered  by 
Richard,  as  Booth.  "He  must  die!"  A  job  for  Olie.  "In  the 
soup!"  Hot  and  cold  boxes.  Olie  and  Booth  to  the  rescue  of 
Zadie.  Explanations.  A  new  version  of  McGinty.  A  love  scene. 
Capture  of  Verda.  Supposed  death  of  Booth.  Fright  and  death  of 
Dudley.  Capture  of  Richard.  Frank  and  Verda  secure  the  fortune 
at  last.  Zadie  avenged  and  the  "Commercial  Drummer"  sells  corn 
plasters  no  more. 


THE 

Intelligence  Office, 

An  original  Ethiopian  Sketch  in  1  Scene  for  3  male  char 
acters—as  produced  at  Tony  Pastor's   Opera  House. 
This  sketch  is  extremely  ludicrous — costumes  modern — 
time  in  representation  15  minutes. 


